Misgiving
by ElCapitan18
Summary: The war is won, the galaxy has survived the Reaper threat, and our heroes stand in the aftermath with nothing left to live for. How does Shepard survive without her love? How does Thane survive when everything he knows is gone? Their journey of self-discovery starts here. Rated M for a reason.
1. Prologue

_Breathe_. Tightly clenching her teeth Shepard demanded herself to keep her shit together. At a lazy pace the elevator ascended, unaware and unconcerned of her urgency. The sound of her pounding heart throttled unhappy fists against her eardrums in protest of the delay. When the elevator doors finally swooshed open, unveiling the lobby of Huerta Memorial Hospital, she threw herself free from the suffocating death trap.

It was crowded, people of all shapes and sizes seeking aid from medical professionals. Under different circumstances she would have paced the lobby alert to these people's needs, ears twitching like those of a cat's in hopes of maybe finding a way to help someone with something. As it was she didn't have time for detours. He needed her.

"Excuse me," said a murmur that sounded almost like her voice as she trampled over a salarian. She had no idea where she was going, not the slightest inkling as to where they were hiding him. Breathe. It wouldn't do for the great and renowned Commander Shepard to lose it in the middle of the hospital.

Poking her head into a room she called, "Thane?" It was the third room she had tried. And she intended to go on with the same technique throughout the rest of the goddamn hospital until she found her drell. Panic swelled within her, tightening her chest as it inflated all the way to her throat until it was impossible to breathe or swallow. Was she too late? Was he already dead? G_od, Arashu, Kalahira_, anyone, _please don't let him be dead_.

Warily noting her distress, a human doctor risked his life and stepped out to intercept Anya before she barged into yet another room and scared a few more patients. He raised an expectant eyebrow, patiently waiting for Shepard to verbalize her needs. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a drell named Thane Krios." Her hands balled into fists at her side. Either he helped her or he got the hell out of her way. If she wasn't too late already then she was wasting time.

A hesitant look washed over the doctor's face. Anya's heart tightened at the sight of it. It was a 'please don't let me be the bearer of bad news' look. She had worn it herself on many occasions. Eyes focused on the data pad in his hand, he flicked through the information compiled within. Upon finding what he was looking for grimness darkened his features.

The doctor's face was expressionless as he informed her, "We have a drell here, though not under that name."

Have, not had. There was a chance that Thane was still alive. She still had a chance. Pouncing on the dim hope that she wasn't too late, Shepard elaborated, "He was injured. Stab wound. He's a regular patient here." That blade had gone right through him, cutting what time they had short. She exercised the thought, purging it from her mind. He was alive. It wasn't too late. There was hope.

"It's alright, it's alright," his voice turned soothing, it was a futile attempt to slow her down. "I see." Shepard was imagining the somberness of his voice. Nothing good came from a doctor who sounded somber. Gesturing for her to follow suit he stalked down the hall some, seeking a veneer of privacy in a hospital that offered none. "The doctors were able to repair a lot of the trauma. However, Mister . . . um, Krios is in the final stages of Keprals Syndrome."

Her already tight chest constricted some more. He was going to pinch out the meager flame of hope that she had forced herself to rally. He was going to crush her into dust under his feet.

"At its worst Keprals Syndrome interferes with his blood's ability to carry oxygen. And he's lost a lot of it." The attending doctor paused, inspecting her face, searching her eyes. Did he find pleasure in destroying her? Was that why he was showing no mercy? "Now, they've given him a transfusion, but frankly, there was a limited supply of drell blood on the citadel."

That was something she could work with. She had a ship. She had money. There were bound to be drell blood banks hiding around somewhere. She'd faced more challenging missions a dozen times over. "I'll get more. Give me his blood type." Shepard would have given him her own blood if it had been possible, all of it if need be.

Frowning he shook his head, hacking away at her just as she had started to hold herself together. His tone was almost scolding when he shunned her offer to help. As if she were being foolish in thinking there was anything she could do. It was probably the case. He was the doctor. She was only a soldier. "That's not going to work. Only one other drell on the station is a match, and that drell is in with him now. We did all we could to help him through surgery, but his body can't replace lost blood with new cells. Too much shock. His son, Kolyat, he's in there saying his goodbyes. You might want to say yours."

No. He was lying. This was a sick joke. She was not going to lose Thane after just getting him back. Six whole months she had been forced to survive without him. It had been a hell that nearly ruined her. And that had only been six months. Did this man honestly expect her to say goodbye and get on with her life?

Shepard clenched her eyes shut, forcing her emerging tears to stand back. It wasn't over. Thane wasn't going to die. Not on her watch. Prying her eyelids open she marched into the room that the doctor had waved her to.

The doors slid open. Kolyat was bowed over his father, hands held in prayer. At the airy sound of opening entries the young man stiffened and turned to face the intruder. His shoulders relaxed at the sight of her. "Commander Shepard," his gravelly voice greeted her. Though his tone was friendly there was no disguising the distress that boiled over inside of the boy that was a darker shade of green than his father. "My father mentioned that you were no longer incarcerated."

He glanced down to the floor. If he had been human he would have blushed. "I don't know if you remember me," Remember him? Of course she remembered him. If the situation wasn't what it was Anya would have greeted him with the warmth she saved for her friends. "I'm Kolyat Krios. I came to give blood and . . . well . . . "

Well, indeed. They both glanced over his shoulder at the man who occupied the hospital bed. Though Shepard's view was obscured by the young drell before her, who stood as a shield between her and heart break.

Returning his dismal gaze in her direction Kolyat explained, "He asked me to take off the mask so he could be comfortable." Emotion ran as thick in his voice as it did through her blood. "I don't think that it will be very long."

They needed more time. Why couldn't they just have more time? Raking her mind for something to say Shepard settled on, "Your father helped me save a lot of lives." Oh God, how shallow that sounded. Kolyat's father, the love of her miserable life was dying not twelve feet away from them and that was the best she could do? Anya didn't want to be the great and mighty Commander Shepard anymore. She wanted to scream at these so called gods that dared to take Thane Krios away from her. She wanted to curse the Citadel's synthetic heavens for putting her in this helpless, hopeless, position.

Biting the inside of her cheek as she forced herself to keep it together, she requested, "I'd like to be here." If he turned her away she would respect that, but not without a fight.

To her relief Kolyat inclined his head in understanding and replied, "Of course," before moving away. Her shield was gone. Heartbreak was hers for the taking.

Her legs were rendered to rubber, threatening to let her collapse onto the floor in a puddle of desolation. Keeping her raging emotions in check was a challenge without equal. All at once she had to maintain her unshakable pretence, while forcing one wobbly step after the other until she reached Thane's bedside.

How she wanted to reach out and touch him, to caress the scales that served as the arc of his cheek bones, to feel the silky red flesh that stretched out under his chin and neck. All Anya could think of was crawling into that twin sized hospital bed and curling up beside him, wrapping her arms around his body as his torturous breaths burdened him no longer.

She fought the tears like she had fought the Collectors. For Thane and Kolyat she would be strong. The doctor's words should have prepared her for this. He had unwittingly admonished her against hope, explaining to her that there was none to be had. But she had ignored him, disregarding his professional opinion. She was Commander Shepard. She made things happen, and she would make Thane Krios live whether or not he wanted to. It was foolish, childish. Anya set herself up for disaster and had only herself to blame.

From the beginning there was only one way this could have ended. Gazing down at the man that she had fallen so deeply, so completely and irrevocably in love with, Shepard forced herself to recall her first memory of this drell. His scales had been a little brighter back then. His death a little more distant.

The arrogance of this woman. It almost annoyed Shepard how many goddamn mercenaries she had to plow through just to get to the top of this stupid tower. If she didn't enjoy the fight so much she would have been really pissed. The fact that Nassana was about to be dealt with was the only thing that made Shepard stay her hand at the sight of the coward. She was about to get what she deserved. And Anya had front row seats.

_The taller they are ._ . . thought Shepard as she admired the view over Nassana's shoulder. The asari had hid away in her sky scrapping fortress, teamed with armed mercenaries and killing innocents that couldn't get out of her way fast enough. Hers was a well deserved fate. And Shepard entertained conversation as she awaited the grand finale.

"Shepard," Nassana greeted her with a questioning look. She was starting to get used to that look. With a frown she muttered almost to herself, "But, you're dead."

Was she? Oh dear, then she really shouldn't waste any more time in finding a grave to burrow into. This reoccurring conversation was truly starting to get old. "I got better."

"And now you're here to kill me," the mercs beside her tensed, fingers tickling the triggers as they anticipated their orders.

Anya almost laughed. Casually she scanned over the room, searching for any entries that Thane would take advantage of. There were the side doors, likely armed. And the window, which would be more trouble than it was worth to get through. If it had been her she would have gone with the ventilation shafts. His options were limited. But he'd been doing this for a lot longer than her. She was positive that the spectacle to come wasn't one worth missing.

The side of her mouth twitched upward as she inquired, "You're really paranoid aren't you?"

Waving off the Commander's question, Nassana rebuked, "Don't patronize me, Shepard."

"Charming as ever."

The asari droned on for a bit, recalling a relative that Shepard had dealt with. Her tension was palpable. This woman so undeserving of life really did not want to die. Shepard wouldn't have helped her if she could. "You really think I'm here to kill you?"

"Do you have another reason for destroying my tower?" Well if she hadn't Rapunzeled her way to the top of the dumb tower it wouldn't have been destroyed in the first place. "Decimating my security," now that was just the fun part. Shepard's day hadn't really started if a small army wasn't decimated.

She tried to shrug off her amusement, "I'm just looking for someone."

In true Dantius fashion Nassana attempted to buy Shepard's submission. To toy with the woman now would have been cruel, a cat pawing at a mouse. Shepard wouldn't accept her credits anyway. It was likely to be blood money. There was the slight sound of movement overhead. With a smirk Anya gave herself a pat on the back. Through the vents, she called it.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest she assured her, "All the credits in the world won't make this problem go away, Nassana."

The woman's impatience grew, along with her dread. Voice dripping with venom she compared herself with Shepard, claiming to be equal, her crimes no greater than the woman standing before her. It was pathetic. They weren't equals. Nassana killed because she could, because she had the power to get away with it. Anya killed because she had to, because it hadn't been within her power to avoid it.

Bumping within the vents grew in volume, setting Nassana and her guards on edge. Without a strategic thought in her blue head she commanded half of her too few guards out the side entrances, minimizing the force between her and fate. And still she thought she held all the cards, had all the power. Orders barked past her lips, pompous as she tried to maintain the image of her control.

He fell from the ceiling like an acrobat. Landing with a feline grace, he sifted through Nassana's guards as if they barely warranted notice. The drell danced. His motions like water, every step ending a life, every death bringing him closer to his target. If she had blinked she would have missed it. As soon as he had dropped from the vents it had been over. Nassana was dead.

The drell stood over his kill, palms embracing and head bowed. He was a stoic creature, standing like a statue, a regal angel of death.

Shepard had to stop herself from biting her lip. It had to be a crime to look that good in leather.

The sound of Garrus' voice broke her out of her appreciative trance. "Impressive," he smoothly observed, and it took quite a bit to impress Garrus. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

That he did. She took a step towards the green sculpture, awaiting his reply. What did his voice sound like? What kind of person was this stolid man? When the turian's statement went unanswered she added, "I was hoping to talk to you."

"I apologize," his voice was gravelly, low and level, easy to listen to. It was a sedative and a toxin. Shepard liked the sound of it. "But prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken."

He had told her from the start that his days were numbered. There had been no dancing around the topic. She knew from the beginning the risks that came with loving a dying man. And still she couldn't bring herself to regret a moment of it. Shepard's heart lurched into her throat as she tried to see past the tears that swam before her. Her drell was a water color of greens behind the film that protected her from the atrocity of his final breaths. The sound of her heart shattering blared like a Reaper's horn. This war had to end. She had to see it through. But after that it was the sea that awaited her.

_Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve._

He was leaving his body. But soon she would be with him again. There was just one more thing she had to do.


	2. Chapter One

**This chapter was beta-ed by the wonderful JaliceAZ**

**-X-**

"You couldn't disappoint me, Thane. Not even now."

Gods, those eyes. They were almost as large and round as his own, so filled with misery and terror. She would never admit it, his Siha, trying to be strong for his own sake. A cough tore through him, piercing him with a pain equivalent to that of the blade that had placed him in this bed.

The sound of his agony caused both his son and his love to flinch.

How could he do this to them? It wasn't a conscious decision. Thane did not want to abandon them when they needed him most. If the gods had placed the decision in his hands, he would have chosen life. He would have chosen Siha. But the tides were summoning him. The shores across a not so distant sea were beckoning.

His chest compressed. Thane could not breathe. A fit of coughing stole what little oxygen his lungs could retain. It was pain without parallel. His chest was on fire and his limbs sore, feeling as though they had all been broken. Thane was helpless to his fate, weak and defenseless against what was to come. This was not the death that he would have chosen for himself, though he could not bring himself to regret the events that had preceded his current demise. His son had been returned to him. Thane had been miraculously awarded the love of an incomparable woman. It was better than he deserved.

He wanted to reach out to her then, to trace her beautiful cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the plump of her lips. But Thane's limbs were heavy. His mind growing slower. The sound of crashing waves and churning oceans grew louder. No longer was it a distant din. It was rapidly growing nearer to him than the woman he loved and the son only just restored his life. There was one more thing to be done. Just one last prayer to be made before the seas washed him elsewhere.

"Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me."

Goddess, protect her in his stead. Thane didn't have sufficient strength even to draw his next breath.

* * *

A gasp ripped him out of the darkness. His lungs roared a complaint against such deliberate abuse. It was not the same pain he remembered. The discomfort clustered in his chest felt as if it had just been the target of a charging varren. Thane's body was heavy with drowsiness. His limbs were immobile, distant, deadweight. There was a thick fog surrounding him, cascading confusion down upon him like the heavy rains of Kahje.

Voices fluttered somewhere beyond the reach of his awareness. The quick and pitchy sound of them told the assassin that they were salarian. Was he across the sea? Were these salarians dead as well?

"Brain activity suggests that the subject is aware," one of the voices was close enough for him to hear without straining his malfunctioning senses. The voice was filled with concern, surprise, and excitement, emotions coloring his tone like the hues of the hanar.

Subject, a scientific term that he hadn't expected to encounter in the afterlife. There was no way . . .

Another salarian responded to his colleague's observation, the shades of his tone a mirror of the first horned amphibian. "Give him another dose of sedatives. We have more tests to run."

No. Thane didn't need sedatives. If the gods had indeed felt inclined to lengthen his life then he didn't need more tests to be run. Thane needed to find Shepard. He needed to find his son. They would have mourned him. He would have made them suffer a needless pain. He needed . . . he had to . . . consciousness was fading fast. Thane was thrown into a memory as he was forced into slumber.

* * *

Blood red, that was the shade that best described the color of her hair. The shining strands of crimson were haphazardly combed aside as she pulled on her helmet. Jade irises landed on him for a moment, inspecting him for something he did not know. Those impossibly green eyes were stolen up by the turian standing before her.

"Cleaning up Cerberus' mess again," observed Garrus as he inspected his rifle another time. Mandibles twitching into a smirk, he continued, "Just like old times."

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Shepard casually leaned back, ignoring the slight tremble of the hammerhead fighting against some turbulence. "They never learn, do they?"

A Cerberus base needed to be contained. An experiment had gone awry and it appeared only Commander Shepard had the skills necessary to properly manage the situation. Admittedly, Thane was curious to see the woman in action once again. He had heard stories, everyone had. The illustrious Commander Shepard was a force to be reckoned with. He had seen what she was capable of first hand.

The Dantius towers had been a race to the top. Upon Shepard's arrival he had been pressed to beat the hurricane of a woman to the target. But now he would be at her side, an extension of her will. He would learn more about how she fought, how she thought, who she was.

Thane was surprised at his carefully suppressed ardor for this opportunity. It betrayed a desire -a need- to know this woman.

Double checking all of her equipment, she addressed her team like the true authority her title suggested, "Lord knows what Cerberus is doing down there. But if I know Cerberus, it's nothing that I'd approve of. Save anyone that can be saved, kill anything that can't."

The hammerhead touched down and they disembarked. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Thane was filled with unease. When buildings are filled with people it can be felt, the souls within giving the life to the structure. But the facility they approached was as dead as Nassana Dantius.

"Shepard," his voice reached out to her, nothing pleasant awaited them ahead.

The woman at point nodded in agreement. "I feel it," she muttered.

A male voice filled their communicators as they closed in on the front doors. "Thank God you came! My name is Dr. Gavin Archer. The situation is urgent – we're facing a catastrophic VI breakout. I'll explain the details later, but you must retract the transmission dish. The controls aren't far from your position. You have to hurry!"

He left them with that, allowing silence to accompany them as they entered the Cerberus facility. As soon as the doors shut behind them, they were greeted by death. Bodies were strewn about. Blood splattered across walls and congealing in pools the shade of Shepard's hair. It was a massacre.

"I knew I wouldn't like this," grumbled Shepard. Displeasure swam in the greens of her eyes. Anger tugged at her eyebrows.

Garrus nodded his agreement, "With so many projects that end like this, it's a wonder that anyone would invest in Cerberus."

Turning away from an open-eyed body, she commanded, "Move out," and led them in to the mess that surely awaited them.

They made their way to the control room without incident, though that meant very little when compared to the level of destruction surrounding them. Cautiously, Shepard approached the console. With deft fingers, she attempted to retract the dish as Archer had instructed. But the moment that her gloves grazed the holopad, the enormous dish looming in the horizon, turned away from them like a wronged lover. A pair of green pixelated eyes appeared on every screen and monitor in the room. A raw, tortured voice screamed incomprehensibly at them.

Slightly flinching away from the voice cursing them, the Commander mumbled, "Creepy."

"Damn it!" Archer's voice rejoined them. "The VI's overridden the controls. We have to stop him. He's trying to upload his program off planet." Panic and urgency were heavily embedded in his every word.

Uploading the program off world would be bad. Creating the VI had been bad. There was so much needless death around them. And for what? He doubted that the answer would justify the death toll. Thane stepped over a young woman's body. Her lifeless eyes were green like Shepard's, just not the same vibrant alluring color. _Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, guide these souls_.

The three of them swept their way into the heart of the facility. An angry green glare following them all the while. As they entered the mess hall and common area, the source of the slaughter greeted them with gunfire.

Hard flooring met them as they threw themselves behind the nearest cover, before their shields were shredded to pieces. Garrus and Thane both looked to their Commander for direction. There was a smirk on Shepard's lips as she instinctively flinched down and away from the flying bullets. She looked almost gleeful to have finally been met with action.

Catching her squad-mates' gazes, her hands signaled for Garrus to take point, a position that attracted bullets like a high powered magnet. She and Thane would flank the geth. Her from above. Him from below.

With her instructions made, she saluted them farewell and with a final grin, she switched on her tactical cloak. Disappearing before their eyes, the woman was a wraith in the room. Thane knew exactly where she was, of course, not even Kasumi could hide from him.

Geth fell at their feet. They cut through the enemy with haste and precision. Just as Thane shot a Geth Trooper in the optical lens, he heard the sound of a raging fire roaring behind him. Over his shoulder, he caught sight of a Destroyer approaching Garrus' position, flames fingering over his cover, threatening to cook the turrian alive. Before he could swing his pistol in his target's direction, two consecutive shots obliterated the geth's head, decimating it into a pile of useless machinery.

"God, I love this gun." Shepard popped out of cover as she fondly stroked the length of her sniper rifle.

Garrus also emerged from his hiding place. He threw a faux angry glare to where Anya stood on the level above them. "You almost let him roast me alive, Shepard." It hadn't really been that close and they all knew it. The banter was just playful exchange between old friends.

With an uncaring shrug she replied, "Can't take the heat, get out the kitchen." That was one of her easier humanisms. Throwing herself down to where they were standing, she rolled into a crouch before uncurling and leading her two companions onward.

"Come on," she called over her shoulder. "We've got a dish to destroy."

The station was swarming with fleets of geth. They had to slice through team after team, a task made easier by Shepard's tactical division of her squad. As she and Thane thinned out the forces focusing on Garrus, the turian had less bullets flying at him and more targets distracted between attacking him and defending themselves.

As Thane threw himself off of the collapsing dish and onto the catwalk some distance below, he found himself enjoying the thrill of their fight. Shepard's love of the battle and enthusiasm for action was contagious. He was powerful, an assassin, more lives had been taken by his hands than some could imagine. But he had never really considered the excitement of it, the glorious thrill of slashing through an army and standing triumphant.

Shepard pushed herself onto her feet and took stock of the damage. Satisfied that everything was in place and that she'd made it mostly unscathed, her lips pulled upward. "That was fun."

"I'd rather not do it again," Garrus also pulled himself up onto his feet. Cracking the bones in his neck he added, "If that's alright with you, of course."

Before she could respond, a man ran down the catwalk in their direction. His distressed blue eyes greeted them as he called, "Over here!"

She glanced over her shoulder, her body turning to face the direction her gaze had pointed. Tone no longer playful, she investigated, "What the hell is going on around here?"

The scientist's features were troubled in the wake of everything he had survived. "Man's reach exceeding his grasp. Come on, I'll explain."

They followed the man back to the main facility, where Thane and Garrus were ordered by their Commander to collect the dead and prep their bodies for recovery. She then entered the control room beside Archer for a debriefing.

Thane dragged yet another corpse across the landing zone to be returned to families and given proper services. He looked down the long lines of dead. They were only becoming acquainted with the destruction to be found here. There were still two other facilities that needed to be flushed out before the real problem, the VI, could be dealt with.

Turning to his turian squad-mate, who was scanning each individual for identification, Thane asked, "Is this level of carelessness common place for Cerberus?"

With a glance thrown between the body at his feet and the data on his omni-tool, Garrus nodded in answer to his question. "Back before Shepard died, we dealt with too many cases like this one. Cerberus is always trying to control something, be it Thorian Creepers, Thresher Maws, Rachni, or geth." He leered down the rows of bodies just as Thane had. With a disgusted shake of his head he muttered, "You'd think that they would learn by now."

Thane couldn't help but agree. His gaze wandered up toward the doors that Shepard and Archer had disappeared behind. Thane could understand the woman's unease with allying with this faction. Jack's hostility towards them was also comprehensible. The Commander had many qualities to be admired. She was able to set aside her own trepidations, her own distrust, to save the countless lives that depended on this alliance. Thane respected her.

The doors opened and the Commander descended the stairs to where her team awaited her. Glancing from drell to turian, she forced a smirk onto her lips, a half hearted attempt to lighten the dark task they had yet to complete. "Let's move, gentlemen, I should give you both a chance to get your kill counts as high as mine."

Garrus scoffed, "I don't know, Shepard. If your kill count is anything like mine you'd be the one called Archangel."

When her smile landed on him, his heart leaped from his grasp, throwing itself into his throat. Holding his wrist behind his back, he risked joining their banter. "An assassin does not kill and tell."

That earned him a frivolous bark of laughter. With a wave, she gestured for them to follow her back to the hammerhead and onto the next two stations.

The devastation that welcomed them at Vulcan and Prometheus stations were identical to what they had left behind at Hermes. There were dead bodies and possessed AI's. The VI haunted them as they progressed, watching in outrage as they scored through its army and unlocked the remaining controls. The repartee between Shepard and Garrus went on without end. They were close. That much was obvious to any onlooker. But Thane found himself longing to be more than an onlooker. He desired a similar relationship with the Commander, an intimate friendship to be cherished. Truly the woman must sire similar effects with everyone she encountered.

The Hammerhead easily descended, making a swift touch down on the landing pad. As they exited the Cerberus vehicle, a scattered array of corpses was their reception.

"Looks like you're in, Commander." Archer joined them again. "I'm getting some troubling readings though. The VI is trying to upload its program directly from your location. Get to the server room and shut down the core before it can –" the rest stuttered into static interference.

"Server room," she said to the rest of them. Lifting an eyebrow she tempted, "What could possibly go wrong?"

As they followed the destruction, the VI began to toy with them. Locking unlocked doors, opening previously shut entrances. It was herding them, leading them through the building in the direction that it wanted them to go, forcing them to fight through an onslaught of geth as they went.

Throughout the battle, Thane found it amusing to note that Shepard seemed to love that rocket launcher nearly as much as she loved her sniper rifle. They entered the elevator, kicking aside pieces of geth, and punched in the command to send them down. As the lift started its descent, it began to quake. Pixelated green eyes appeared behind them. The VI howled in indignation. The floor beneath them was no longer trustworthy as the elevator jumped up a level before falling down three. They reached the bottom in a heap, collapsing under the weight of momentum.

As the doors swept open they were faced with geth. Shepard unleashed a few rounds into the foremost enemy, only for it to fall face first, unresponsive to their arrival. The geth were connected to hubs. They were inactive, sleeping and unaware of the visitors evacuating the faulty elevator.

With no threat left to stop them, they moved on. Through the door and down the hallway, they paused before a second door. Shepard pressed the key, expecting it to swoop open as the green screen suggested it should. Instead the green screen came to life. It inched across the door, climbed on to the wall and crawled its way onto the other door a few feet away.

Shepard looked to her companions and shrugged, "change of plans," was her murmur.

The door now available to them was another control room. A body was bent in an unnatural position before the pane. Anya stepped toward it, watching as Thane and Garrus took up defensive positions beside her.

Looking down at the screen she ordered, "Get ready. I wouldn't be surprised if this button summoned a Reaper." She glanced at Garrus. He nodded. She looked to Thane. He tilted his head. Looking back down at the console, she pressed the button and took a step back. The lights in the entire building dimmed. A bolt of brilliant green light shot through the console, blasting skyward like a beacon. Jolts of cybernetic electricity zapped through Shepard. The VI's face manifested before them, screaming as Shepard stumbled over.

"Shepard," Garrus gave her a questioning look. He was upset, but he didn't look as worried as Thane felt.

She wobbled past him, her eyes wide and omni-tool glowing with green pixels. They followed slowly behind her. Too slowly. As soon as she stepped foot back into the hallway, the doors shut behind her, refusing to be reopened. They were trapped and Shepard was alone.

"Shepard!" They both yelled after her, only to be answered by her silence. After a moment, gunfire sounded from the hall on the other side of the door, geth clicked and chirped and the VI howled in its typical irking fashion.

Garrus slammed his fists against the door as Thane tried with all his strength to pry the two slabs apart. All attempts to hack the key and force it open were met by failure. Until this business with the VI was dealt with, they were stuck where they stood. Shepard would have to fend for herself for the rest of the mission.

A frustrated growl tore through Garrus. He was not happy to have been separated from the Commander. And Thane understood why. They were supposed to protect her, to have her back. She depended on them to look out for her, where she couldn't look out for herself. They could not perform that necessary task while hidden away in some room that severed connections between them and the Commander.

"Well this is just beautiful." The turrian slid down the door and glared at his feet. There was nothing more they could do. Rubbing the plates between his eyes he sighed, "She is not going to be happy about this."

Thane wasn't happy about this. He had sworn to help Shepard. Since they might find themselves stowed away for some time, he decided to make himself comfortable. Sitting cross-legged on the floor some odd feet away from Garrus, he inquired, "Do you think that she will be fine without us?"

He nodded without hesitation, "Yeah, she'll be alright." After a thoughtful second he scoffed, "You've seen her fight. She hardly needs us there in the first place." The reassurance was for him as much as it was for Thane. Shepard was Garrus' friend. He would be very upset with himself if she got hurt because he couldn't get a door open.

Though Thane and Shepard did not have the history that she shared with Garrus, he felt empathetic to the turian's plight. He changed the subject so they could detour their thoughts from their shortcomings as squad-mates. "What do you think is going on here?"

"I wish I knew." Garrus shrugged. "You've heard Archer's logs. He was hoping that his brother would be able to communicate with the geth." Shaking his head he stroked the long speared plates at the top of his skull. "There is no such thing as a small mistake for Cerberus, it would seem."

"They brought back Shepard." Thane wasn't trying to defend the human elitists, it just deserved to be said that they did at least one right out of all of their wrongs.

"Yeah," the turian agreed. "And the staff of the entire space station ended up just like all of these poor souls," his three fingers gestured to the body at the other side of the room.

Thane looked at the body his companion had pointed to. Glancing back at him he asked, "If you have so many reservations then why did you join forces with them?"

Shaking his head Garrus corrected, "I joined forces with Shepard. She's the only one that can stand up against the Collectors and take them down. It just so happens that Cerberus is the organization willing to face the truth and deal with the problem."

That was a lot of responsibility for one woman. She had died, only to be revived to a world that had dismissed her warnings as errant and ignored everything she had fought for. Now she was burdened with the task of saving everyone from a race that no one believed existed. She had built her career out of performing the impossible. Thane only felt fortunate to participate before he finally met his end.

With nothing more to say, silence nestled in alongside them. The minutes seemed to drag on, turning into hours. Thane sat patiently, only partly paying attention to his meditations. The sound of the doors sliding apart made his eyes rip open. He and Garrus both leaped onto their feet.

Shepard stood at the entrance. A breath escaped her parted lips at the sight of them, relief settling into her emerald eyes. Shaking her head she grumbled, "There you two are. It's just like you to make me do all of the heavy lifting." Though she joked, there was not a trace of humor in her voice or on her features. Her eyebrows were pinched with antipathy. Her lips were thinned with distaste. Neither hostile emotion was toward her squad, but rather the things she had faced alone.

Thane and Garrus both fled from their entrapment, stepping out into the hallway to where Shepard stood they noticed that she wasn't alone.

Looking at the young human male, wrapped with a blanket around his body, Garrus asked, "What the hell happened?"

"Gentlemen, this is David Archer." She gave the boy a sidelong glance, her anger growing until it licked at their own emotions. "We'll be transporting him to Grissom Academy."

"Archer," Thane peered over at the human. He shared only a slight resemblance to the doctor. Judging by his lack of color and the bruises surfacing along his flesh, it was easy to discern that David had not been handled with care. Returning his attention to Shepard, he observed, "Gavin Archer's brother. Will the doctor be accompanying us?"

"No," was her curt reply. The mention of Gavin Archer made the Commander's features turn in disgust. He was the source of her outrage. Whatever the doctor had done, it filled Anya with such fury, she struggled to contain it. "We'll let Cerberus keep that scumbag." Without another word, she turned to leave, expecting all three males to follow obediently behind.

On their way back to the Normandy, she explained what had happened. She told him and Garrus about how David had shown her Archer's growing obsession with controlling the geth. David had led her through lines of possessed AI until she found herself fighting David the VI. Defeating him before he could send his virus off world, she discovered the true atrocity of what had been done to him. David had been a victim of Cerberus ambitions. He had suffered unspeakably at the hands of his own brother.

When they arrived aboard the Normandy, David had been immediately taken to Dr. Chakwas. She had shooed all from the medical bay. David's autism demanded privacy and care. Even though she had been dismissed from the Med Bay, Shepard loomed outside the window, peering in as she chewed on a fingernail.

Thane stepped up beside her. The rest of the crew had already dispersed; even Garrus had returned to calibrating the guns when he could steal no more words from the Commander. For the most part they were alone, and he could not fight his desire to talk to her. She had not been herself ever since they left the Atlas station. She was upset and infuriated, and Thane wanted to make those unreceptive feelings disappear. He wanted the swift return of his vivacious and sardonic commander.

To his surprise, Shepard spoke before he had the chance to. "I have a brother," her admission caught him off guard. He did not know how to reply, so he didn't, allowing her to continue uninterrupted. "A younger brother named Michael. Every instinct I possess demands that I protect him. Growing up, I was the one who fought off his bullies. I was the one who bandaged his scrapes. That's what family does, they protect each other.'

He clenched his teeth at the mention of family duties. Sometimes one fails one's family, and the price for that mistake is too much to bear.

Shaking her head, Shepard glared at the window, not seeing David or Dr. Chakwas. Her hands balled to fists at her side, her anger radiating from her. "What Archer did to his brother is unthinkable. David is special needs. He needs to be protected more than the average person. That was Gavin's job, to protect his brother. Instead he does this," she violently gestured to the window, biting her lip against the emotions rioting inside her.

Thane followed her pointed fingers through the window, staring at the screen dividing David and Chakwas from their prying eyes. Returning his gaze to the woman beside him, he searched for the words to calm the storm inside her. "You cannot change what has been done to David. This crime cannot be reversed. But you have saved him." She looked up at Thane, her green eyes seeking out his words desperately. "You are giving him a chance to live again. Archer has to live with his crimes, but you get to live with the knowledge that you saved David from his brother."

She didn't reply right away. Instead her gaze returned to the Med Bay. Shepard's brow was no longer furrowed with fury. Her lips were no longer thinned by her upset. She was contemplating his words and allowing her anger to subside with the knowledge that David was going to be alright.

Returning her attention to Thane, a smirk at her lips hinted at breaking through the surface of her expression. "Thank you, Thane."

He bowed his head, "No thanks are necessary." Her gratitude, necessary or not, filled his chest with warmth. He longed for that subtle smirk to break out into a grin. Her smile was a beautiful sight, one he wished to see before returning to Life Support.

Emerald eyes stared at him for a second, reading his features, searching his face. After a moment she said, "I have to go write up a report about the mission." Biting her lip, she timidly added, "I might stop by Life Support later, to talk, if that's alright with you?"

Timid was not a word that Thane would have associated with Shepard. She certainly wasn't shy on the battlefield. And among the rest of the crew she was nothing short of a leader and friend. He couldn't help the smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth at the sight of her timorous. "I would like that."

"Good," relief washed over her for a second time that day. A smile brightened her face as she took a step back. "I'll, uh, see you later then." She backed into Rupert who reminded her which way was up. Cheeks burning to a red that matched her hair, she fled for the elevators without looking back.

He had been gifted with the sight of her smile, one that he had summoned onto her lips. Thane watched as she disappeared behind a wall before making his way back to his room. He would be restless until she visited him; hers was much welcomed company.

* * *

"Gah, I'm an idiot." Shepard pressed her forehead against her knees and let loose an exaggerated sigh.

Hidden behind the curtain of the Commander's drawn knees, Kasumi sniggered. As she painted a coat of vibrant turquoise nail polish onto Anya's toes she lulled, "I'm sure it wasn't that bad, Shep."

Oh, it was that bad. It was worse. "He probably thinks I'm an idiot. 'That's a start.' _That's a start_? What kind of line is that?"

"A charming one," the smile on Kasumi's lips was loud enough. The thief thought she was being ridiculous.

Peeling her face from her knees she peered over her legs down at her hooded friend. "I don't think you understand, Kasumi. He's not even interested. To let me down easy he said, 'That's intriguing'." Shepard buried her face in her hands. Romancing Kaidan hadn't been anywhere as stressful. Kaidan was easy, simple and boring. Thane was mysterious, observant, thoughtful. Thane was . . . alien. Shepard was drawn to him, her fascination insatiable. He was strong and broody, dangerous and harmless all at the same time. He was sexy, and not the least bit interested in his human commander.

Throwing herself back onto the couch she tossed an arm over her face and groaned, "What am I going to do?"

"Well first, you are going to stop fidgeting so that I don't mess up the polish." When Shepard did as instructed the thief continued, "Now, you are going to not do a single thing differently than you have been. You've already put it out there that you're interested. The rest will work itself out."

"But what if he doesn't want me?"

Kasumi's smile grew, "Trust me, Shep. He wants you."

Arm falling away from her face, the Commander leaned up to catch a better look at Kasumi's expression under the shadow of her hood. The sneak knew something that she didn't. Of course she did, with the shameful way that she used that tactical cloak she was a better spy than she was a thief.

Arching a prying eyebrow she wondered, "How do you know?"

With a playful shrug Kasumi chose that very moment to be coy. "I know everything."

"How to strike a nerve included." Shepard shook her head as she glared up at the ceiling of Kasumi's quarters. It was mildly amusing how much space this tiny woman demanded, stealing as much room for herself as possible. Ever since recruiting the tiresome little hellion, Shepard had formed a special kind of friendship with her. Kasumi was quirky. She was tactful, playful, thoughtful, and full of crap. Her having neighboring quarters with Thane also helped strengthen their growing friendship. While she took the time to visit with Kasumi she might as well also check in with the drell. He was in the neighborhood after all.

But ever since she had blurted out that lame pick up line, Shepard hadn't the nerve to show her face inside Life Support again. She was beginning to miss her talks with Thane, and wondered if he missed them as well.

"You know," Kasumi started, the tiresome brat was going to give her a piece of advice, and Shepard was going to listen with hungry ears because she was desperate for some direction on how to handle the mess she had made for herself. "You can hide out with me for only so long before you bump into him again. Might as well get it over with and spare yourself all the nauseating dramatics."

"Are you kicking me out, Kasumi?"

Another shrug made her shoulders jump. "The polish is dry. As far as I'm concerned, we're done here."

Nodding in full acknowledgement of the betrayal, Shepard retorted, "You're a real pal." Throwing her legs over the side of the sofa and peering down at her brightly colored toes, she stalled for just a moment longer.

Kasumi didn't try to hide her amusement. Fine, Shepard didn't need the traitor anyway. Slipping her boots on, Anya departed the thief's quarters with a discontented huff. As she moseyed out into the hall, she tossed her eyes over to the shut doors of Life Support, and then fled for the mess hall instead. Shepard would brave Thane's gaze later, after a decent meal.

As she rounded the corner, Shepard stopped short, frozen in place by her surprise. Thane, just the man she didn't want to see. Her only saving grace was that he was conversing with Garrus and Tali. If she had to face him at least it wouldn't be alone. Thane didn't seem the type to humiliate his Commander right smack dab where everyone could bear witness.

Despite her concern over speaking to the drell, Shepard was pleased to see him out of Life Support and interacting with the crew. They were more than just a team. They were a family. Humans and Aliens alike would be bleeding together, suffering, laughing, crying, and growing together. She also liked the fact that he was speaking with the turian and quarian. They were her closest friends on board, their opinions the most significant. It was important to Shepard that they liked him, even if he didn't see her that way.

"Shepard," Garrus called her over. Mandibles twitching in mirth he said, "I was just telling Thane about how we first recruited Tali."

Shaking her head, Tali's helmet lit up as she said, "Fist was such an ass."

With a nod the turian agreed. Eyes turning onto the Commander, he stated, "I still don't know why you let him live."

"Fist is an idiot," she shrugged. "But that doesn't mean that he deserved to die."

"Oh he definitely deserved to die." Tali crossed her arms. Of course she was a little jaded on the topic, seeing as Fist had tried to set up the quarian's assassination. "And you've killed people for less."

"Wrex was so upset when he found out that you let him live."

"That krogan is nothing short of a diva." She couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the massive dinosaur pouting because Shepard had ruined his reputation as a reptilian that got the job done. In the end it was something of little import. They'd had bigger concerns than supercilious thugs who couldn't properly set up a hit.

To Tali, Shepard stated, "We ran into Fist on Omega."

"That's right," Garrus jokingly recalled, "I think he might have preferred death."

"Next time we're there I'll be more than happy to help him with that," Tali was only mostly kidding. She sure knew how to hold a grudge. Maybe that explained her glorious hips. She needed some way to support all that resentment.

Shepard glanced at Thane, only to rip her gaze away and throw it down at her feet. Those black orbs were peering at her, watching her closely. What was he thinking? Did he deem her as big of an idiot as she thought she was?

"Why did you let Fist live?" Thane's voice was like a syringe filled with morphine. He injected her, forcing Anya to disregard her embarrassment and meet his gaze.

Biting her lip, she shrugged in response, still too timid to use her words. How many YMIR Mecs had she obliterated? How many mercenaries had she gunned down just in the past week? And she couldn't keep eye contact with one drell. God, she was pathetic. Clearing her throat, Anya tried to explain without her voice squeaking, "If I killed everyone I met with questionable judgment, this galaxy would be a very empty place."

He considered her words for a moment. Satisfied with her statement, he held his wrist behind his rigid back and wondered, "May I have a moment of your time, Shepard?"

With an uncertain glance at Garrus and Tali, she silently pleaded for either of them to pull an excuse out of their asses as to why Shepard most certainly could not give Thane a moment of her time. When both proved unreliable in saving her hide, she clenched her teeth. There was no good reason for her to say no. It was time for her to man the fuck up and face Thane.

Forcing a smirk onto her lips, she nodded, "Of course."

Thane inclined his head at Tali and Garrus before turning in the direction of Life Support. Ah crap. They were going to have this conversation in private. This was going to suck so hard. Rolling her shoulders, Anya made a face at her friends before following Thane through the mess hall. They were going to pay for the crime that they had unknowingly committed. No one let Shepard find her way under the bus without repercussions. No one.

When the doors slid shut behind them, Shepard cringed at what would surely come out of Thane's mouth. 'I don't see you that way, Commander.' 'Let's just be friends.' Friends, she couldn't have enough friends, right? The more the merrier.

He stood before the window, peering down at the drive core, silent as he pondered whatever it was that happened on the inside of that head of his. When a second passed without a word from him Shepard asked, "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes," he glanced over his shoulder before turning away again. Why wouldn't he look at her? "Now that you are here though, it seems more difficult to talk about."

Yeah, telling the Commanding Officer of the ship you are serving on that you aren't interested in a romantic relationship is usually a tough thing to do. Unless Shepard was jumping the gun and this had nothing to do with her. Her heart fell as she scolded herself. There she was pining over what she said and how he might have taken it, when there was likely some bigger issues that he was dealing with, like dying. She didn't know enough about drell anatomy or physiology to tell if he looked sick or not.

"I've got time," her eyebrows furrowed with concern, "take it at your own pace."

"Thank you. I fear I have already done that for too long." He finally turned to face her. His expression was neutral, not giving away anything. So much mystery clouded around the man, the more Shepard found out, she realized the less she really knew about him.

Pacing to where he stored his weapons, Thane said, "I had a family once. I still have a son. His name is Kolyat. I haven't seen him for a very long time."

Wow, a family. Her shoulders slumped. That explained his lack of interest in her. Shepard fought to keep her face expressionless, showing her disappointment might have led to misinterpretation. Shaking away her sidetracking thoughts, Shepard inquired, "Did something happen to them?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, a somber gleam to his serious eyes. "I abandoned them," Thane admitted, "Though not all at once, nothing dramatic. No sneaking out in the middle of the night. No final argument or slammed door." His eyes found hers again, silently requesting that she understand. "I just did my job. I hunted and killed across the galaxy. 'Away on business' my wife would tell people." Thane looked back at the guns as he murmured, "I was always away on business."

Alright, the time had come for Anya to get over herself and view Thane as crew. It was all that they could be. She had to come to terms with that. Monitoring his expression, Shepard asked, "How long has it been since you talked?"

"Ten years. He showed me some of his school work and asked if we could 'dance crazy'. We did that when he was younger. "

"Dance crazy" sounded an awful lot like what people referred to Shepard's dancing as. Amusement pinched the corners of her lips. She returned to the purpose of their conversation. "You've never mentioned this before. Why now?" Anya wouldn't admit that finding out that Thane was married and with children had irked her a bit. She didn't have a problem with kids. It was just that being attracted to married men wasn't a typical practice for her.

"When my wife departed from her body I . . . attended to that issue. I left Kolyat in the care of his aunts and uncles. I have not seen or talked to him since."

She lifted an eyebrow, "That's not the choice I expected." But then again what did she really know about Thane? Not enough, that was for sure.

"My body is blessed with the skills to take life. The hanar honed them in me. I have few others." Lips twitching in what could have been mistaken for a frown he continued, "I didn't want that life for Kolyat. I hoped he would find his own way. If he hated me, so be it. He would not have shared the path of sin." Turning his body so that he was completely facing the Commander he said, "I used my contacts to trace Kolyat. He has become disconnected."

A dead wife and troubled son. That explained more than she expected it to. If Thane's family was in danger then there was nothing that Shepard wouldn't do to help him. There was nothing more important to her. "What's wrong with him? Is he hurt?"

Shaking his head, he explained, "Something happened that should not have. He knows where I've been and what I've done." Thane frowned as he considered what his son was up to. "I don't know his reasons but he's gone to the Citadel. He's taken a job as a hit man. I'd like your help to stop him. This is not a path he should walk."

It appeared that the apple truly didn't fall far from the tree, no matter what planet the tree was from. Shepard could understand Thane's qualms with Kolyat taking up such a dangerous role. If Shepard had learned that Michael joined Cerberus because he wanted to be closer to her, she would have done anything in her power to get him as far away from the organization as possible.

Thane was her shipmate, her squad-mate, her friend - though that made Shepard cringe. She would do anything within her power to help him. There was just one problem. "Thane, I don't have your contacts. And I don't have your tracking skills," okay two problems. "Why do you need my help for this?"

"I don't need your help. I want it. The last time I saw my son," he was thrown into a memory. A terrible recollection of his deceased wife's funeral passed between them.

Grimacing apologetically, she looked away from him. Real, smooth Commander. She may as well have forced him to remember the day his wife had died. "I didn't mean to make you relive that."

With a shrug he simply stated, "Perfect memory, it is sometimes a burden."

Little else needed to be discussed. Kolyat needed his father. And Thane needed – wanted – Shepard's help. She would do whatever needed to be done to set the drell's mind at peace. "I'll get us to the citadel as soon as possible."

* * *

"Lola," James retrieved her from her memories. His Latin features were unusually hard, stern in their humorless surroundings, as he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder in gesture towards the lightless room behind him. "Come check out what Scars found. He said you'd want to see it."

With a nod, she gave the sparking security station a final glance before turning to follow Vega to where Garrus awaited them. Kaidan had been uncertain that they'd find anything in Sanctuary; and aside from fleeing Cerberus Shuttles, a few dead Reaper forces, and some stragglers, he had been mostly right. But something was terribly wrong with the barrenness they had encountered.

Sanctuary had been built to house hundreds, thousands, of refugees. Countless people had swarmed to the facility for safety. Where were the families? Where were the refugees?

A synthetic female voice spoke over the intercom, assuring them that they had made it to Sanctuary, that they were finally safe. Shepard grudgingly thought of the breaths of relief that were released at the sound of her voice, how many people had slumped in gratitude of finding safety. If Cerberus was involved then Shepard doubted that the refugees found what they were looking for.

As she entered the sparsely illuminated hall where the turian stood watch, she investigated, "What have you found?"

"It's Miranda," he muttered as he stepped aside for Anya to see the consul.

She knew that she'd run into the ex-Cerberus agent at one point or another. Oriana's voice had warned them to steer clear of the facility. If Oriana was here then surely Miranda was not far behind. Anya was eager to unearth what was happening inside of Sanctuary. Miranda had been worrying after her sister since they first met together weeks ago. Why was Oriana at Sanctuary? How had Miranda let her sister, and what was happening to her, slip through her fingers? Shepard cared for little else the way she cared for her family. She understood, and encouraged, Miranda's protective nature.

Jaw tightening, Shepard breathed heavily to keep her temper from flaring. She'd had it up to here with Cerberus. When would enough be enough for these goddamn people? As if she hadn't had reason enough to hate them before they revived her. As soon as the Collectors had been dealt with, they had done anything and everything to get on Shepard's bad side, and stay there. For the unforgivable crime of killing Thane, everyone who wore a Cerberus emblem was as good as dead.

"Okay," Anya sighed as she cracked the bones in her neck. All it took was the end of the world for everyone to decide to fuck each other over. And who did they all turn to to save the day? Yeah, Shepard. It was always Shepard. The galaxy couldn't hold itself together for a freaking second without her constant supervision. The moment she turned her gaze, Collectors abducted human colonists and Reapers wanted to obliterate everything. She was the most underpaid babysitter in the entirety of the universe.

"So we've got Reapers, Cerberus, and Miranda's crazy father. Any ideas how this all fits?"

Garrus and Vega looked at one another before shaking their heads and shrugging in unison. Discomfort nested itself deep in Shepard's gut, burrowing talons into the flesh of her insides. She wasn't going to like what they were about to find. As was the case whenever she dealt with Cerberus. They were going to stumble upon another unspeakable atrocity, one whose memory would never be forgotten, and one which Shepard would be expected to clean up.

Sucking in a deep breath, Anya comforted herself with the fact that it was almost over. The Crucible was just about complete. The Galaxy was unified against the Reapers. Her job was nearly done. All that was left to deal with, was The Illusive Man and his bigoted terrorist group. Practically everything else was in place. Soon she would step into the yawning abyss of fate and meet her certain and anticipated end. She would cross the sea and finally be in Thane's arms again.

Shepard would find relief in death, whether or not she succeeded in saving the galaxy.


	3. Chapter Two

**This chapter has been beta-ed by the wonderful and amazing JaliceAZ**

**-X-**

Blue bolted heavenward, reaching for the sky with angry demanding fingers. It was a beacon of death, a portal to doom. How many human lives had already been swallowed up by that brilliant blue beam? Too many. Shepard set her jaw as she glared up at their final obstacle. They were so close to the end. It was finally almost over.

All that stood in their way now was a Reaper, its minions, and certain death. The soldiers at her sides fidgeted with nerves. Countless comrades had fallen in this battle, countless more would join them. Their anxiety was palpable, thick in Shepard's mouth as it reminded her what it was she should have been feeling. And still Anya was at peace. She didn't feel anxious, nervous, fearful. She didn't feel anything. Her vision was clear. Her mind was calm.

All the hard work she had put into uniting the galaxy had fallen into place. If they lost, they were all dead. If they won, they were mostly dead. Win or lose, Shepard welcomed death with eager arms. In her passing she would be returned to Thane's loving embrace. That was all she wanted. It was the only thing that had made surviving without him endurable, the knowledge that she, too, was going to die.

Anderson threw a hasty glance in Anya's direction. It was now or never. "We gotta move!" he shouted over the roar of ongoing battle.

Unholstering her weapon, she acknowledged his command with a curt nod. "Come on!" This was it. Her heart jumped, kick-starting as it pumped adrenalin through her veins. I'm coming, Thane. The throng of warriors stampeded forward, bellowing out battle cries as they challenged death to give them its best shot. They were the bravest men and women in existence. Shepard hoped not to see them so soon in the afterlife.

* * *

He was swimming in blackness. His senses had abandoned him. Thane was blind, deaf, and dumb. He floated through dark space, limbs immobile, eyelids refusing to open. Was he still alive? Was this the afterlife? Where was the sea? Where were the shores?

Something inside him insisted that this was not the land of the dead. Thane had not been welcomed across the sea. Instead life had abducted him and held him hostage in this middle state, alive but not living. It was nearly like battle-sleep.

It was a battle-sleep that he could not awaken from. Shepard had stirred him from his last slumber. She had breathed life into his limbs, emotion into his heart. Where was his Siha now? Did she think of him, long for him, as he thought and longed after her?

With little else to occupy the vast void of timeless space, Thane retreated to his memories. He needed to see her again, to remember the sparkle of her emerald eyes, the glow to her slightly freckled cream skin, and the warmth of her body beside his.

* * *

They had touched down on Zeta Ban, a scenic planet in the Xe Cha system. Shepard had intercepted a curious transmission implying illegal weapons manufacturing. And EDI provided that the communications were identical to Blood Pack comm protocols. Shepard had a nose for trouble, apparently able to detect its location from light-years away. It never ceased to amaze Thane how easily she stumbled upon a clandestine facility that no one else would have been troubled to investigate.

The fact that it was also a Blood Pack facility translated to the promise of action. And though there was no shortage of battle to consume her time, the Commander never turned down an opportunity to test her skills against the nuisances of the galaxy.

As they readied their weapons and started their investigation, EDI's voice spoke into their communicators. "I'm detecting a large power source inside the base. It is probable that destroying it would disrupt the entire facility."

"Should be fun," Shepard murmured over her shoulder to where Thane and Samara both followed her to the crudely constructed facility.

The promise of battle, destruction, explosions, and thwarted criminal activities. Yes, that did sound like Shepard's idea of fun. Thane tossed his gaze over to Samara, reading her expression as she watched the Commander's back. There was tenderness to the way she looked after their human leader. The asari viewed the Commander as more than a crewmate. Shepard was Samara's friend and confidante. They were family. And Thane knew that there was nothing more important to Shepard than family.

The vorcha greeted them in their typically articulate manner, hissing and growling as they discharged their weapons. Each of them had dealt with their style of combat at one time or another, as a squad and during their own past vocations. The Blood Pack was widely known for their brutality and violence, but not for their strategic prowess. Mostly because there wasn't one to speak of.

Shepard, Samara, and himself cut through the enemy base without a misstep or misplaced shot. Their fearless human leader's shoulders slumped as they evaded the heat of the explosion that reached for their backs. Not enough enemies had been killed, not enough danger had been thrown their direction.

She glanced down at her omni-tool, glaring at the stopwatch she had started when they had stepped off of the shuttle. With a sigh, she tore off her helmet and informed them, "Well, we cleaned that up in record time."

"We were swift indeed, Shepard," Samara agreed, though she was significantly less disappointed by their lack of a proper challenge.

Swollen lips pouting, her green eyes pointed skyward in admiration of the clear heavens. Her crimson hair clung to her forehead and neck, darkened by the moisture of her sweat. She was a glorious sight, beautiful and awe-inspiring. He wasn't typically attracted to other species. After his wife had departed from her body, he had not felt much of anything for anyone, least of all attraction. Females of the human race were lovely creatures, delicate, smooth, and exotic. But he had never felt the inclination to wrap one up in his arms. Until now, that was.

Shepard was gorgeous, her foreign features enticing his curiosity. But it was more than her outer beauty that compelled dormant emotions into stirring from his battle-sleep. Her inner beauty had no rival. He had witnessed her selflessness on countless occasions.

She had, and would, sacrifice for her family, her squad, and complete strangers. What she had done for him and Kolyat . . . Thane would never be able to express to her the depth of his gratitude for uniting him with his son, and presenting him with the opportunity to rectify the wrongs he had committed. And even if he ever found the words that eloquently conveyed his appreciation, she wouldn't accept his thanks. She felt that it was her obligation to help those whom she cared for, as well as those whom she did not know.

What, in this vast and mysterious galaxy, could have been more beautiful than that? No answer came to mind.

Gem-like eyes fell upon him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she stared into his eyes. "This planet is beautiful, isn't it?"

Was it? He had not noticed. Detaching his gaze from hers, he took a moment to scan their surroundings. The colors of the vegetation were vibrant. The atmosphere was comfortable, warm, but not wielding the humidity that made his Kepral's Syndrome unbearable. Above them the celestial body of this system sat lazily in the sky, content enough to let the hours drag themselves onward. She was correct in her observation. The planet was an oasis. Its beauty pale in comparison to hers.

With an inclination of his head, he agreed. "A rare beauty," though he was not exclusively speaking of their surroundings.

Samara also concurred. "I have seen many worlds. Few can be compared to this."

Her smile grew. "Since we made such quick work of this little investigation, it seems we have time to kill. I don't know about the both of you," Shepard's stare went from one to the other. "But I'm in no hurry to get back onto the Normandy. How about we take a break and enjoy the scenery?"

Though he would have disagreed, he did not dare deny her this. His hurry to return to the Normandy was to steal some private time with the Commander, and that could wait until she had had the break that she wanted to steal for herself. He smiled back at her, "Whatever you'd like, Shepard."

Since the Justicar did not voice any discouragement over lingering on planet, Shepard took that as her approval. "I think I saw the perfect spot not too far back." Turning on her heel, she led the two through the discarded destruction and over a hill of trees and boulders.

As they reached the crest of the hill, they were faced by the beauty of a waterfall pouring into a small body of rippling water. The sound of falling liquid reached out to them, flirtatiously summoning them to relax, to lose themselves in the peace only this planet could offer them. She looked back at him, a grin on her lips. There was a playful sparkle in her eyes. Thane's breath was lost in his admiration.

When their feet stopped at the shoreline of the calming pool of water, Shepard shook her omni-tool into action and scanned the surface of the water. Her grin grew at the sight of the readings on her glowing orange device. Standing again, she began to unbuckle her armor.

"Anyone up for a swim?" When her companions wordlessly stared at her with surprise, a laugh spilled past her lips. Off went her gloves and gauntlets, then her shoulder pads, breastplate, knee guards, and boots. From one moment to the next she had gone from fully armored to barely clothed. She wore a tank top, already darkened by her sweat, and her undergarments.

Thane had to remind himself to close his mouth. She was not one of the goddess Arashu's warrior angels. Shepard was a goddess herself. Her muscles were toned, strong, accustomed to action and adapted for survival. Her creamy skin was scarred, evidence of the battles she had seen, the calls that had been too close for comfort. Her bare legs were long, wielding a grace that he knew did not translate onto the dance floor. She was perfect. He would never again be able to breathe in her presence.

Suddenly shy under the weight of his appreciative gaze, Shepard's face was shaded pink. Biting her lip she wondered aloud, "Join me?"

A smile settled on Samara's lips as her eyes passed between the Commander and Thane. Politely declining, she admitted, "I would prefer to take this time to meditate." She pointed to the shade of a tree a few paces away from the pool's edge.

When Thane removed his attention from the fleeing Samara and returned it to Shepard, she was no longer where he had last seen her. At the shoreline of the undulating water, she dipped a toe into the surface of the pool. Testing the water, her shoulders did not relax until she was sure the temperature was acceptable for the rest of her body.

He dared not move from his position, yards from the water. Thane wanted to watch this Siha, wanted to bask in her glory. His thoughts turned to Irikah then, remembering the laugh of his wife, the feel of his first love. Though Thane's feelings for Kolyat's mother had not faded over the course of time, the memory of her was no longer the agony it had once been. Irikah would have liked this powerful woman. If the gods had planned differently, he liked to think that they would have been friends. Irikah would not have approved of the battle-sleep he had banished himself to. But she would have approved of the woman that had awakened him from it.

The sound of splashing water pulled him from his thoughts. Shepard yelped as she resurfaced. Wiping back her blood red hair, her gaze locked with his. That grin that he enjoyed without end formed on her lips and she called him over.

"Come on, Thane," her voice was teasing, her playful mood a contagion. "The water's great."

He could not resist the smirk that twisted the corner of his lips. But he made no move to join her, wanting to make her beg for him, needing for her to want him. Straightening his shoulders, he quietly replied, "Someone should keep watch." Thane knew that there was no more danger. Their enemies had been dealt with. No one was going to sneak up on them now, even if he did join her in the water.

"Keep watch," she gave him a doubtful look. Raising an eyebrow Shepard began to wade through the water, her scowl was taunting. "Keep watch for your manhood, you mean? Can't drell swim? Or is the famous assassin, Thane Krios, scared of a little water?"

His smile grew in response.

Splashing water in his direction she assured him, "Fear not, Krios, I'll keep you safe."

"And who is going to keep me safe from you, Siha?" He had not meant to give voice to the thought. Shepard was dangerous in every sense. Thane had never felt so vulnerable. Every moment in her presence made him want to live a thousand more. He had resigned himself to death, had awaited the release of it. But Shepard had lured the desire to live to the forefront of his aspirations. Fear was not an emotion that he was intimate with, but when it came to Shepard, it was an emotion that rippled like the pool she was splashing about in. He was not afraid of dying. Thane was afraid of being without her.

She shrugged, "You're just going to have to trust me."

He trusted her with his life. But could he trust her with his heart? His leather jacket now weighed tons, stifling, he undid and folded it neatly before allowing the clothing to fall at his feet. Next were his boots. His now bare toes felt the moist earth beneath him, the cool sensation sending an excited chill to course through him.

His unblinking gaze was on Shepard as he undid his pants. It was unexpectedly intimate. Suddenly, they were more than crewmates with undisguised yet unacknowledged feelings for one another. As he allowed his pants to fall around his ankles, they were as good as lovers. He felt as though he wanted her to know the deepest crevasses of his being, and in turn wanted to learn hers.

Stepping out of his pants, Thane approached the water. Shepard watched him, her green eyes large with an emotion he must have mistaken for wantonness. Did she desire him the way as he did her? Did he also make her stomach tense with anticipation?

The water was cool against the surface of his skin. It was a pleasant contrast to the heat of the picturesque planet. As soon as the water reached his knees, Thane submerged himself into the refreshing pool before swimming out to where Shepard waded, observant and entranced by his every movement.

As he neared her, he was filled with the desire to scoop her up in his arms and bury his face in her hair, to kiss her neck, to bite those plump lips so naturally red. But Thane restrained himself, stopping more than an arm's distance away from her. Any closer, and he would lose his resolve. The connection they shared was uncharted water. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Shepard bit her lip as she watched him float before her, stealing into her mouth the flesh he so desperately wanted in his. Releasing her bottom lip from the grip of her teeth, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again as she thought better of it.

Suddenly whatever it was she would not say, was the only thing that Thane wanted to hear. He wanted nothing left unspoken between them. He risked paddling just a bit nearer, tempting his own steadfastness, and entreated, "What is it?"

Her mouth twisted nervously as she considered her words. Those evergreen eyes were inspecting his features, searching his face as though committing it to memory. "You explained to me about your wife," gradually disquiet began to bud inside him. He was not looking for a replacement for Irikah, for there would never be one. But he found that his heart could love again, only if it was Shepard that he pursued. He should have told her that before, so that there would be no misunderstandings about the origins of his affections.

Clearing her throat, the Commander admitted, "I think that it's only fair that I be honest with you too." The sound of moving water filled the silence that followed. Thane waited patiently for her to finish, for her to quell his racing thoughts. Anya turned her gaze upward, as if seeking divine intervention, though Thane doubted any would be forthcoming. "I wasn't married or anything. I don't have a family of my own. But before I got spaced . . . before I died . . . I was with someone; someone that I loved very much. We had been through a lot together. We were planning to have a future together."

The disquiet in his chest grew. Before she had died? That was only two years ago, less time from her perspective. He silently prayed to every god whose name he knew, that Shepard would not say that she was still entangled in emotions that would keep her from him.

Sadness filled her eyes, as though she had lost someone very dear to her. He knew the sentiment, and wished it was not one that she had ever had to deal with. "But after, when Cerberus rebuilt me, it had already been two years. He thought I was dead, and probably wishes I'd stayed that way." She bit her lip again. "We ran into each other on Horizon. He had been stationed there thanks to rumors that I was working with Cerberus. When he found out that the rumors were true . . . " Shepard shook her head at the memory. "He walked away from me, turned his back on me and what we had once shared."

With a shrug that was meant to have been nonchalant, but that he saw as forced, she divulged, "He broke my heart." To his relief, the smile she offered him came more naturally to her lips than the shrug had come to her shoulders. "I've moved on. I just thought that since you told me about your wife, that you deserved to know the truth about me as well."

He sighed a breath of relief, glad that his fears had not been confirmed. Shepard's heart remained unclaimed, which meant that it was his for the taking, if she allowed him to have it. Offering her a sympathetic smirk, he assured her, "He was a fool to have let you go." It was a mistake that Thane had no intention of making.

Her chest and cheeks reddened with his words.

Though everything inside of him was adamant that he swim even closer, that he pull her to his chest and push his lips against hers with a ferocity that matched her battle lust, he instead said, "Thank you for telling me. It is never easy to lose a loved one, either to death or their own stupidity."

Those plush lips of hers trembled as she fought from smiling. In his experience, Commander Shepard was physically unable to let a serious conversation go on for too long. Her jovial persona demanded a playful and lighthearted climate, a rarity that her career failed to provide but she sought out for herself.

"Yeah, well," she submerged underwater, disappearing beneath the dark liquid. When she reappeared it was with a tremendous roar and a splash to match. She threw herself on Thane's shoulders and shoved him under the water, good-naturedly threatening to drown him.

He resurfaced with a laugh, the smile on his lips the most genuine it had been in several years. Quickly turning towards the sound of splattering water, it was in time to catch her retreating back to shore.

As she paddled she shouted, "I'll race you!"

Her head start was not by much. After a few strokes she was within reaching distance. Thane grabbed Anya by the ankle and yanked her back. The sound of her squealing laughter made his smile grow. This would be a memory that he would cherish for eternity. For now, he was going to win the race.

As he neared the shore, beating Siha at the contest she had started, she yelled, "That's not fair, you cheated!"

He turned to look at her, not even trying to suppress his mirth. "Not fair?" he furrowed his brows in mock scolding. "You stole a head start."

Shepard pulled herself out of the water. Her clothes clung to her glistening skin for dear life, distracting him with all of her womanly curves. Wringing the water from her hair she wondered, "Do drell not have chivalry? Where I come from we take 'ladies first' quite seriously."

Shaking his head, and shooing his inappropriate thoughts, he apologized, "The next time we race I will be sure to let you win."

With a light hearted laugh she approved, "You do that, Mister Krios, and next time we race I'll be sure to make winning worth your while." Her smile immediately vanished with the realization of what she said and what it implied. Embarrassment turned her face a dark red. Slapping her forehead, Shepard marched past him to where she had discarded her armor.

As she refastened every buckle she called over to Samara, "Come on, Sammy. I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one day."

The asari roused from her mediations with a knowing smirk but made no comment and strode to where Shepard was finishing getting dressed.

Thane never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss her then. It wouldn't have been apposite. Their relationship, if it could be called such, was still so very uncertain. But Thane knew that the moment that he got this wondrous Siha to himself he was going to find out just how soft those lips were. He would no longer restrain himself. His life was too short to deny himself this, to deny himself her.


	4. Chapter Three

**This chapter was beta-ed by JaliceAZ. She's wonderful!**

**-X-**

The vista was remarkable. Even amidst all the ongoing destruction, the losing battle, the galaxy remained beautiful. Discarded vessels drifted along. Reapers and warships danced a skirmish that one side was sure to lose. And that side would be all organic life if Shepard failed to act. She had not survived thus far, fought so hard, and lost so much only to fail now.

Harbinger sat like a mighty king, peering down his nose at the meager force that held no threat. They did not scare him. To his incomprehensible Reaper mind, they warranted no merit. But there Shepard stood, on the Catalyst, farther than any organic had ever gone before. He should have feared her. She warranted more than his merit. Shepard was going to be his end.

"_The paths are open, but you have to choose_." The glowing child's voice echoed in her mind. He was the Catalyst. But was that his true form? Or had he stolen the sympathetic image from her mind? Shepard no longer felt the tug of indoctrination impeaching upon the fringes of her mind. But that didn't necessarily mean that she was free from it.

Decisions, decisions. So many choices had led her to this point. So many lives had rested on those choices. Her body ached. Bones were broken, throughout her body the skin that held her together was tearing apart. And Anya was nearly positive that one of her lungs had been punctured. She was tired, physically, emotionally, psychologically. She just wanted it to be over. Now all that was left to do was choose which death was most fitting.

Control. Shepard had been witness to enough of Cerberus' calamities to know that there was no success in control. The Reapers were beyond her comprehension. And she couldn't control something that she didn't understand. No. It was a risk that she wasn't willing to take.

And Anya didn't trust this ghostly figure. The child had haunted her every sleeping moment, yet now it offered her peace? It would grant understanding for both organics and synthetics. But only if she were willing to just toss herself into a laser beam and trust that everything would turn out okay.

_Pshh_. Yeah, because this phantom that controlled the Reapers, the destroyers of organic life, was just so trustworthy. Shepard didn't think so. That left her with just one decision. It was the only logical decision. It was the decision that Anderson would have wanted her to make.

With a groan, Shepard forced herself forward, dragging her broken body along the never ending path. There wasn't a chance that she could just tell ghost boy her decision and he would go along and kill himself, was there? No? She hadn't thought there would be.

Anguish filled her eyes with water. Her vision swimming in a pain that surpassed any and every pain she had ever felt combined. The bones in her ankle, her entire leg, it had to be broken. Warm blood spewed between her fingers, flowing like running water, and left a behind a trail of crimson. Holding her breath she pressed forward; the trek eternal. Each inhale felt impossible, the exhales excruciating. Every atom in her genetic makeup was howling in agony.

And in spite of all that, Shepard was calm. She knew what had to be done, why it had to be done. She was at peace. Death had been her desire for weeks now. As she recruited forces across every corner of the galaxy, just as she had recruited squad-mates in the past, it had been in anticipation of her death. Each race had jerked her around, even her own. They all had made her bend over backwards and sacrifice herself. It had all been in preparation for her own passing.

If they won this, life would go on. They had needed to her fight the war, to lead their forces. In war Shepard was a weapon. She was a resource, her skills and charisma an asset to all diplomats across the galactic board. But in peace? Surely her shift babysitting the Milky Way would be over by then. They wouldn't need her. Shepard could die and find peace of her own. She could find Thane across a sea that now whispered in her ears.

Peace. She sucked in a painful breath. I'm so close. We will be together again soon, my love.

Her thoughts wandered to her family, to the brother she hadn't said goodbye to, the parents she hadn't told how much she loved. She thought of Kolyat, wishing that she'd had more time to know him. Was he like his father? Or did Irikah hold greater influence over her son's character? The Commander wished that she had learned this before she got to die.

Gaze drifting upward, Shepard was momentarily enveloped by the galaxy. She prayed that her crew was safe. How terrible it would be to see them in the afterlife. She would already be greeting too many old friends in death. Her friends, the ones that had survived, would be safe. Her family, who she hoped had received her messages, would be fine. She had helped everyone who she could help. She had righted many wrongs. Nothing had been left undone. Nothing was keeping her alive.

Determination straightened her stride. It wasn't much farther now. She probably still had just enough blood for her to last the few yards that stood between her and her target. Her jaw was set, her goal within shooting distance. It was time to save the worlds, again.

* * *

"I can't thank you enough, Shepard." Miranda stepped out of the shuttle and back onto the Normandy. The always graceful woman seemed to be gliding lighter than usual. Her shoulders weren't tense, her brows weren't pinched. She'd still never be the life of the party, but she had a lighter air about her than before.

The cargo hold was empty for the time being. But as the woman's blue eyes swept towards the elevator, her no-nonsense demeanor was returning. Shepard may have broken down her walls and found her softer side, but the rest of the Normandy had no right to see it.

An indebted smirk ghosted on her lips as she returned her gaze to the Commander. "Oriana will be safe now. And it's because of you."

"It's because of us," Shepard waved off Miranda's gratitude. Oriana had been in danger. Sure, Shepard hadn't known the circumstances before nose-diving into the gunfire, but that knowledge wouldn't have changed anything. Miranda wanted to keep her sister safe. There was nothing more important than family.

Unsure how to handle her softer feelings, Operative Lawson looked a little uncomfortable with her unnecessary gratitude. "Yes well," she started for the elevator, "thank you again, Commander." Miranda didn't look back as she cut through the cargo hold.

"Where's my thanks, Lawson?" Garrus shouted after the Cerberus agent. Knowing how sensitive the objective of the mission had been, the turian had been their mostly silent companion. Now that the mission was complete he was back to his typically derisive disposition.

When Miranda's only acknowledgement of him was a smirk before the elevator doors closed in front of her, he turned to Shepard and shook his head. "And they say that I have a stick in my ass." He was teasing, of course. Garrus enjoyed mocking his Cerberus crewmates. It was how he had warmed up to them.

"It's 'up' your ass," she corrected with a chuckle. "What else do they say, Garrus?" Shepard wondered as she began to loosen the fastens of her armor while they strode toward the elevator.

With a shrug he replied, "Only that you can't handle a sniper rifle nearly as well as I can."

At that she couldn't help but laugh. "Is that so?" When he nodded she petitioned, "We'll just have to hold a competition one of these days, now won't we?"

Garrus flicked the screen that summoned the lift, but since Miranda had taken it without them its arrival would be delayed. As they stood in waiting Garrus shifted from one foot to the other. There was something that he needed to say to her. But the topic was either personal or embarrassing, probably both, so he literally danced around the issue that needed to be vocalized.

Lifting an eyebrow the Commander gave him a quizzical look. "Would you just spit it out, Vakarian?" Sure, he knew his way around a sniper rifle, but if conversation were a weapon he would have shot his foot off a long time ago.

"I – This thing that you have going on with Thane . . . " his discomfort level had been around a six before speaking, now that the words had been forced out of his mouth he was hovering near a hundred. Shepard turned her entire body to face her friend.

Her features were humorless, hard as she waited for him to finish. Her stern expression multiplied his discomfort. "Don't get me wrong," he waved his talons defensively between them, "I'm happy that you've found someone. Even if he isn't the same species. What's that human saying? Different strokes for different folks?" If Shepard had been an onlooker of this cringe worthy exchange she would have slapped herself on the forehead. But since she was a participant it was an entirely different story.

She had to admire Garrus' determination. Even as he dug himself deeper and deeper into a hole that he couldn't possibly get himself out of, he persisted. "I just . . . Look, Shepard. We've been through a lot together. You're my friend, and a damn good one at that. And I just want what's best for you." Stroking his mandibles he searched carefully for his next words. "I can tell that what you and Thane have . . . it's important to you. And I know that you know that he's dying, so I won't reiterate that with you. I just want you to be happy. After everything you've been through, you deserve to be happy. It's just . . . with Thane, you don't know how long that happiness is going to last."

It would have been wrong of her to snap at him, even though his observation had made her angry enough to snap his neck. He was her friend. He had every right to be concerned. But Garrus didn't understand. He couldn't possibly comprehend what she and Thane shared.

Sucking in a leveling breath, the least she could do was subdue her old friend's apprehension and reassure him that she could handle herself. "Thank you for your concern, Garrus, but you can shove it up your ass right alongside that stick." A smile overpowered her agitation. Different strokes for different folks, she was going to have to remember that one.

"Thane may be dying, but you forget that I've already died once. Hell, even you've taken a rocket to the face, Garrus. We live dangerous lives. We may not survive this 'suicide mission', the next bullet I take might be my last, or I can die in my sleep of old age." The elevator arrived and the doors opened.

"Life is uncertain," she continued as they boarded the lift. "But I'm not going to let that stop me from finding happiness where I can. And Thane makes me more than happy. I lo– care about him a lot. And he cares about me too."

"He's a good man," Garrus agreed. "I was just –"

"Being a good friend," Anya finished for him. "I know. And I appreciate it. Here's another human saying for you, Gare-Bear, it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." But even Shepard knew that it was a million times easier to say that while the man dearest to her was still living.

"Turians have a similar saying. I'm happy for you both, really I am." He gave her a sidelong glance as the elevator ascended, more relaxed now that the most awkward part of the conversation had passed. In attempt to reestablish some normalcy Garrus shoved her shoulder. "As long as you're happy that's all that really matters to me, Shepard."

Before she could shove him back, Joker's voice sounded from the intercom. "Uh, Commander, Jack and Miranda are in the middle of a . . . disagreement. Can you head it off before they tear out a bulkhead?"

She and Garrus shared a look before they both shook their heads in unison. To Joker Shepard said, "I'll deal with it."

"Take pictures," came the mirthful reply.

To the turian she commented, "I swear I'm going to start dealing with in-crew fighting the way my mom used to deal with sibling rivalry."

"And how was that?"

"She made us both get into one of my dad's tee shirts." A smile crept onto her lips as the memory resurfaced. The shirt was enormous, even with her and Michael taking up residence within. Often times it would make it easier for her to pinch her brother without her mother's noticing. "We'd have to wear it and be a team for an hour. It was the worst."

Garrus chuckled as he informed her, "I can't remember ever fighting with my sister."

"I'm sure Solana has better memory than you do," she rebuked as the elevator doors whisked open. Shepard immediately erased the smirk from her lips, reclaiming her 'Commander face' before dealing with her crew. The clatter of flying furniture was the first sound that greeted them.

"Here we go," muttered Garrus, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

Ignoring him, Shepard marched into the mess hall, where the crew was gathered in a speculative circle. Miranda and Jack stood spotlight, stalking around as they each threw slanders and chairs at one another. Shepard rolled her eyes as she shoved her way through the bodies encircling the unraveling drama.

"Touch me and I will smear the wall with you, Bitch!" Another chair flew across the room.

Grunt cackled in pleasure, smashing his fist into his other hand as he anticipated the women tearing each other apart.

"That's enough," Shepard stepped into the fray. "Stand down. Both of you."

Both women relaxed only slightly at the Commander's intervention, no longer tensed for the attack but not open to reason yet either. Jack spoke first, her perpetual snarl on display. "The cheerleader won't admit that what Cerberus did to me was wrong!"

Miranda raised her nose, glaring down at the wild woman as if she were a child amidst a temper tantrum. "It wasn't Cerberus, not really." Her lip pulling up into a snarl that could rival Jack's she growled, "But clearly you were a mistake."

"Screw you," Jack charged the short distance between them. "You have no idea what they put me through," she said as she pointed an accusing finger in Miranda's face. "Maybe it's time I showed you."

Grunt cheered for the demonstration.

Shepard pinned him with a glare that shut the krogan right up. As she stepped completely between the two disgruntled women, she reinforced, "Our mission is too important to let personal feelings get in the way."

"Fuck your feelings. I just want her dead."

Not so much as a grin from Grunt. Good, Anya was in no mood to deal with this shit. They were a team, a family. They didn't have to like each other but they were going to serve together. It would be a task easier done if they set aside their feelings and grew a pair; or quad as Wrex would have said. "You both know what we're up against." She had singled them out but really it applied to the whole crew. "Save your anger for the Collectors."

Straightening her back, Miranda was the first to relent. "I can set aside my differences... until the mission is over."

Jack grinned, the expression as dark as it was menacing. "Sure, I'll do my part." Her grin grew. "I'd hate to see her die before I got a chance to fillet her myself." Stomping away, the crowd of spectators parted before Subject Zero could throw them around with her biotics.

Miranda gave Shepard a nod before she too left the scene. She retreated back to her room where reports needed to be made and work needed to be done. Just like that, the issue had been resolved. No get-along-t-shirt had been needed after all.

"That's it?" Grunt complained as he made his way back to the cargo hold. "Human's are soft. Where's the blood?"

"Can't get a single decent catfight around this goddamned ship," Zaeed was quick to agree.

As the onlookers thinned out, Shepard noticed that a green scaled drell hadn't been present during the unsatisfying catfight. She assumed that there hadn't been enough mud for Zaeed's liking, just as there hadn't been enough blood for Grunt's. Glancing towards Life Support, Anya considered stopping by for a visit. It was a compulsion she almost always entertained. Whenever she was on crew deck she felt drawn to Thane as if by a magnetic force.

But her drell would have to wait. During the relocation of Miranda's sister the Commander had taken bullet. It wasn't anything terribly serious; medi-gel had stopped the bleeding but Dr. Chakwas would still need to look at it and stitch it up.

"Say, Commander," Chakwas greeted her as she stepped through the doors. "You certainly know how to clear up a spat with little to no casualties."

Fighting the smile from her lips, Shepard paced over to her usual place and settled down on the crinkly white paper that draped over the examination table. With an indifferent shrug she responded, "The night is young, Doc." She finished undoing the buckles and latches that kept her armor firmly hugged around her body. When only the under armor remained, Shepard peeled that off as well, leaving herself with only her sports bra as protection from the cool Med-Bay air.

The wound was on her side. It was barely a scrape, less than an inch deep. The medi-gel had taken care of the pain, but it wouldn't protect her from Chakwas's heavy hands. The woman walked over as she slipped on latex gloves.

Standing before the Commander she muttered, "Let's have a look, shall we?" Gently placing her fingers on either side of the wound, she pulled it apart to gauge its depth. When Shepard flinched away from the stabbing pain, the doctor let out a sigh, "Well, you've certainly taken worse. I'm going to have to sterilize a knife over a hot fire and cauterize the wound."

Shepard grimaced at the notion. "Very funny, Doc. I've always suspected you might be sadistic, but I'm pretty sure that the wonders of modern medicine have disestablished that level of barbarism."

"I do like having options." Opening a package of antiseptic wipes, Chakwas began to clean the abrasion so that she could bandage it up. "I would think that you'd welcome the procedure. It would leave quite the unsightly scar."

"I think I have enough of those already." Shepard stared down at her body. Her torso and limbs were covered with a disarray of healed gashes and scars, though unsightly wasn't a term that she'd use to describe them. They were a part of her, a story of who she was, what she'd done, and where she'd been. Shepard was a seasoned warrior, and she had the battle marks to prove it.

As Chakwas secured the bandage onto her side, the woman's eyes briefly lifted to meet Shepard's gaze. "Your facial scars are all but healed." Her smile was light, encouraging and motherly. "I see you've been keeping a positive attitude."

"Trying to at least," Shepard rebuked. She was trying. The galaxy just didn't make it easy for her. It was always something with these people. Shaking her head, she shunned the thoughts from her mind. Their denial and evasion was a natural reaction. She couldn't hold it against them. Well, she could. It just wouldn't accomplish anything.

"A feat that a good man is making a bit easier."

It wasn't a question. Karin Chakwas was stating fact. The Collectors could do their damage but Shepard would persevere because a certain drell made fighting uphill a bit easier. She struggled to keep the grin from growing on her lips.

Earlier, when she had been talking to Garrus, Anya had almost let the L-word slip. She had nearly admitted to emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge yet. Yes, what she and Thane shared was strong. Their attraction for one another went beyond the physical and the emotional.

They were a pair, carved up and shaped by fate and life. Etched to coincide, to complete the puzzle, they were one because the events of their lives had made them one.

Allowing the smallest of smirks to twist the corners of her mouth, she agreed. "He is pretty extraordinary."

"And I'm sure he'd say the same of you."

"If he knows what's good for him."

Chakwas sniggered at that. After the calm application of a little more tape, she stepped back to examine her handy work. "All finished, Commander." Throwing away the gloves she returned to her desk to continue the task of filling out paperwork, an eternal cycle with no end in sight. For as long as Shepard got injured, Chakwas would be pushing papers.

As Anya restored some of her decency and collected her armor the doctor said, "And Commander, do try to be more careful."

"I make no promises, Doc." Shepard left the Med-Bay with a smile on her lips. As she made her way to the elevator, her gaze was once again drawn to Life Support. Her entire body was rigid with longing, yearning to be in Thane's presence again. But first she had to shower. Her sweat-covered skin had long since dried, and the lingering smell was nothing short of offensive.

Thane would not only understand, he'd be grateful for her consideration in sparing him the stench.

The elevator doors parted with a sigh. Detaching her gaze from the direction her legs desired to stride, Anya stopped short when she saw that the elevator was occupied. "Thane," her body livened, tingling with the excitement that his proximity aroused.

His gaze was pointed downward, inspecting the various bottles held tightly in his grasp. At the sound of the Commander speaking his name, Thane was abducted from his thoughts. "Siha," his large eyes widened with surprise. Shoulders and entire body tensing, he swiftly hid the possessions behind his back; keeping its contents well away from her curious gaze.

Brows furrowing for a moment, Shepard stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that would take them to her cabin. The doors were sealed before Thane had a chance to escape. The tension in the elevator was devastating. He avoided her gaze at all cost. Anxiety budded in her gut. Thane had never acted this way in her presence before. He had always been welcoming, approachable, and at the very least civil. But now he stood stiffly beside her as if he wished he were anywhere else. It was as if Shepard repulsed him.

A grimace surfaced on her face. Of course she repulsed him. She smelled terrible. Shepard was covered in body odor and mercenary remains. She reeked and she was forcing him to sit through it. God, she was killing him slowly. Shepard's cheeks and neck reddened with the heat of her embarrassment. Oh, what a romantic gesture. Smell me in all of my unkempt glory, she thought mockingly. She had half a mind to stop the elevator at the CIC and shove him out for his own safety. But that was dramatic, and the console was right there. If he wanted out, he could see to it himself.

Clearing his throat, Thane rolled his stiff shoulders, coaxing them to appear relaxed. "The mission went without incident?" His rough yet smooth voice filled the elevator, heating Shepard's blood at the sound of it. She was already on fire with embarrassment, the addition of instinctual arousal his voice inspired only furthered her discomfort.

Unable to properly speak past the onslaught of her humiliation, she nodded. "Yep."

"And Miranda's sister?" He searched for words to fill the awkward silence, forcing conversation just as Shepard forced him to suffer her stink.

"Fine."

"I am pleased to hear it." Silence followed. He caught the hint. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to crawl into a hole and let her embarrassment kill her.

With a sigh, she glanced at him again. It was time to man up. They had something, and she had thought that it would've taken a lot more than bad BO to come between them. It actually stung to learn otherwise. She was a fucking soldier, from time to time she was going to smell like ass. If he had a problem with that then he could find an airlock to throw himself out of. The nerve of him, making her feel self-conscious about something she had little control over.

Her glance turned into a glare. "Is something bothering you, Krios?" The words were filled with venom, even to her ears. She had worked herself up into a fit of anger. Now anything and everything he said would be held against him.

His gaze ripped towards her, filled with surprise at the hostility of her tone. Features shifting with uncertainty he shook his head, "Not at all, Siha."

Unable to either suppress or contain her anger, Shepard turned to face him. She couldn't just outright accuse him of thinking that she smelled like a latrine. So she searched for any other reason to voice her disquiet. The moment she moved to face him Thane had turned his body as well. The contents in his hands were still hidden behind his back and well away from Shepard's eyes. Bingo, just the thing she needed.

"What are you hiding from me, Drell?" If her stench was so offensive he could just say it. He didn't need to hide things from her.

Discomfort unearthed along his features. He hesitated for a second but as his eyes found the anger, and pain, stowed away in Shepard's gaze he relented. With a discomforted shift of his feet he admitted, "Mordin ambushed me earlier. He was intent on imparting me with his medical expertise." If flustered was an emotion that a man like Thane Krios could feel, then he was certainly on fire with it now.

Removing his hands from his back and revealing the bottles he had hidden away, he allowed her to investigate the labels. Thane struggled to maintain Anya's gaze, abashed by what he was holding. As Shepard picked up one of the small bottles he informed her, "Mordin said that they would reduce discomfort . . ."

Reduce discomfort? Then it hit her. A rather unflattering bark of laughter filled the elevator. Her amusement confused him. Of course it did. Not that his discomfort wasn't entertaining, because it was. But Shepard had worked herself into a tizzy because she had assumed that Thane found her unappealing. Her laughter was more at herself than because Mordin had cornered him into talking about sex. She was relieved. It would have sucked to have lost what she shared with Thane because she hadn't made it to a shower.

And the scientist salarian had cornered her as well, though not bearing gifts. Their romance was no secret, though the fact that they hadn't done the deed apparently was.

"I'm sorry," she said in between laughing spells. As she wiped away a tear she confessed, "I'm not laughing at you."

Thane raised an eyebrow, challenging her to that fact.

"Okay," she admitted. "I'm not laughing _entirely_ at you. It's just that I thought I was grossing you out with my stink." Looking down at the bottle of oil in her hand she shook her head, the last of her laughter spilling past her lips. "I was getting ready to snap you in half."

He gave her a furrowed look, shocked and bewildered by her wild and irrational conclusions. "You smell as a warrior angel should, Siha. Like battle and victory."

She blushed again. Contemplating the bottle in her grasp she was half tempted to use it. Who was she kidding? Shepard was always tempted. Not to use the bottle, it had only recently been placed in her possession. She was always tempted to ravish Thane, to throw him down on his cot, the table in Life Support, or against the nearest wall and just tear off his leathers. It wasn't her fault. He was just so goddamn sexy. His every movement predatory, the dark look in his black eyes smoldering, Thane was practically asking for her to pounce. It was a miracle upon miracles that she had enough self-discipline to contain herself.

The doors opened as the lift arrived at the loft. She stepped out, glancing back to find him standing uncomfortably within. It wasn't the first time he'd been in her cabin. It was just the first time that he'd come bearing oils and lubricants, forcing sex to the forefront of their minds. Their attraction was electric. If he went in to her cabin with her now, wielding all the gifts from Mordin, they may not have been able to help themselves for much longer.

She was willing to torture herself for the fuck of it. Having Thane already present in her cabin erased her having to go all the way down to the crew deck to find him. Reaching back into the elevator, Shepard pulled him out. "Come on," she muttered as she half dragged him into the cabin.

"Shepard, I – " his protests died in his mouth as they entered her room. The light from the fish tank was the only illumination to fill the cabin. Talk about mood lighting.

So that he wouldn't be so uncomfortable, Shepard summoned the lights. Before he could make a break for it, she stepped beside him and swept up the bottles in his hands. "Give me those," she murmured before walking to her nightstand and shoving the contents within. With no other reminder to the inevitable event of their much anticipated union, Thane seemed to relax a bit. Goodness gracious, it wasn't like he was going to have sex with a praying mantis. He would survive the ordeal.

"Just make yourself comfortable. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'd like for you to be here when I get out." She didn't make a move for the bathroom until she was reassured that he would be there when she returned.

The hint of a smirk came to his mouth. With a nod he replied, "I will be here," and sat down on her sofa as if to prove that he wasn't going anywhere.

Though hot and much needed, the shower was indeed quick. It was the fastest shower she had ever taken in her entire life. But if she stepped out and Thane wasn't there she was going to march all the way down to Life Support, carry him over her shoulder, and drag him back kicking and screaming. Throwing on her clothes with the speed of someone up to no good she bolted from the bathroom, hair sopping wet and dripping a trail behind her.

When she re-entered the cabin, Thane was standing before the fish tank, contemplating the life forms within. Shepard couldn't help her smile. He hadn't run away. There was a pensive mien about him, almost somber as he inspected the tank.

Shepard paused by her desk, taking the time to appreciate the drell while he wasn't looking. He knew she was there. She knew that he knew. Thane was probably aware of exactly how many feet she was behind him; how he would retaliate should she decide to attack him, which way was best to disable her. Shepard trusted him, knew he wouldn't ever intentionally hurt her, but there was no dancing around the fact that he was a lethal creature. Those muscles, barely contained by his leathers, were strong, trained, weapons in their own right. The same hands that caressed her flesh were capable of untold damage. And that only served to make him that much sexier.

Anya bit her lip. He was astounding on the battle field. She could only imagine how he was in bed. Gaze darting to her nightstand Shepard begrudgingly dismissed the thought before joining Krios by the fish tank. Letting go of a sigh that was meant to cool her blood she observed, "Beautiful, aren't they?"

His gaze was on her when he replied, "Gorgeous." Green irises scrutinized her features with an affection that Shepard dared to call loving. His eyes went to her sopping wet hair and a smirk stole his lips. Fingers reaching up to her face, Thane tenderly felt the line of her cheekbone.

Shepard's heart leaped into her throat. Excitement and ecstasy set her blood to boil. His skin was amazing. The scales of his flesh were rough like leather yet inexplicably smooth all the while. He was warmer than a human by several degrees, as though he were constantly suffering a fever. A shiver carved through her. The greens of her eyes thinned as her pupils dilated. Nostrils flaring, she had to fight the urge to jump him. Her body was already leaning towards him, lips parted as she was unconsciously gravitating into his arms.

Fingers feeling the shape of her jaw to her ear then to her dripping hair, Thane admitted, "Your collection of aquatic life is almost as extensive as your collection of model ships."

Shoulders sagging, Shepard let out another sigh. Glancing over her shoulder at the compilation he was referring to, she cursed him for his deliberate distraction. He had done it on purpose, seeing how Shepard had reacted to his proximity, witnessing the ferocity with which she desired him. His persistent abstinence was frustrating. They were adults, fully able to share in adult activities. Like having sex. She had fantasies that needed fulfilling.

"My dad got me into collecting model ships," said Shepard as she strode to her desk and searched for the wide tooth comb with which she could tame her drying hair. As she began the process of untangling the knots from her crimson locks she recalled, "Growing up I remember him having every model ship of the Alliance Navy. They were more precious to him than Michael and I."

Rolling her eyes at the memory of her father's stern expression she grumbled, "God forbid one of us played with one of those ships. I'm telling you, Hell hath no fury like a Shepard."

Thane made a noise as if he could quite easily believe that. Then, as he inspected the wall of her collection, he commented, "You don't speak very much of your father."

They had shared quite a bit over the short time of their infant romance. Shepard had opened up to Thane, allowing him to delve into her deepest and most protected vaults of memories and secrets. He, in turn, had encouraged her to do the same. Shepard had wanted to know about Irikah, what she'd been like as a person, what traits Thane had fallen most in love with. She had asked about his training as an assassin, his spirituality, and his faith.

If Shepard hadn't spoken of her father much, it was because of a lack of inquiry on his part. With a shrug she replied, "Dad's a hard ass. He wasn't really there for me or my brother growing up. It's tough being raised in a military family. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, it's just that my mom did most of the parenting." After a moment of contemplatively chewing on her lip she explained, "The Alliance is my father's family, we were just an extension of the lives under his command."

"He loved you," it wasn't a question. Thane was only saying what her father hadn't said enough growing up.

"Yeah," Shepard flicked on her private terminal and began to sift through her messages, "He just didn't know how to show it." Archiving the messages that she didn't need, Anya's entire body tensed as she stumbled upon the subject: The Shepard's are multiplying. That was Michael's sense of humor.

Thane was beside her in an instant, offset by her sudden change in body language. "What is it, Siha?"

"Michael," was her mumbled reply. As her eyes scanned the contents of the message a grin began to spread across her face. After a moment of Thane standing rigidly at her side, awaiting her elaboration, she explained, "His wife is having another baby. She's in labor right now." Connecting to Joker she set their destination. It didn't matter what they were doing in this system. She was not about to miss this moment in her younger brother's life.

"You got it, Commander." Joker's voice filled the cabin. She could hear the smile on his face as he stated, "It'll be good to see the Shepard's together again."

She couldn't help but agree. The Shepard family spent too much time too far apart. Joker was privileged to have witnessed even one reunion. It was about time that they got together again. Looking up into the oblivion of Thane's warm eyes she admitted, "I've really missed my brother."

The smile that took to his lips was understanding. Casually leaning against the wall behind her desk he inquired, "This is Michael's second child?"

She nodded in response. "He already has a son, Mika, he was four when I last saw him." The happy expression faded from her face as realization berated her forgetfulness. "Ah, crap." Rubbing her forehead Shepard never wanted to kick her own ass more than she wanted to right then. "I've missed two birthday's. He's not going to be very happy with me."

"You were dead, Siha." Thane was nearly amused by her distress. "Surely you cannot be held accountable for those two years."

With an airy exhale, she was quick to disagree. "To a six year old," she huffed again, "I'm going to have to make up for this big time." Allowing a contented grin to reappear on her face she shook her head. Joy hummed along her veins, coursing through her body, allowing her to momentarily forget the severity of their mission, if only long enough for her to steal what little time with her family she could.

Her happiness was radiating because even the always brooding Thane was sporting a smile. "You and your brother must be very close."

"We were while growing up," with a shrug she sobered up a bit. Her smile didn't disappear, only receded a little. "But he has a family now. And the galaxy always needs saving. We don't get to talk as often as we should."

Thane's obsidian gaze inspected her features, investigated her inflection and tone. Expression turning with inquest, he wondered, "Do you envy your brother?"

After only a brief hesitation she supplied, "I'm proud of him. He found a way to live outside of the military. Michael braved our father's wrath and went to college instead of enlisting. He made his own path. He has a career, a home, and a family who loves him." Shepard peeled her eyes off of Thane and stared pointedly at the fish tank, chewing her lip as she thought. "He has stability."

"Are you unhappy with your lot, Siha?"

"No." She was quick to answer. It was tough living the way she did. But she wouldn't lie, Shepard loved every moment of it. Though there were times . . . "I'm where I'm meant to be." Smiling up at the handsome drell she confessed, "I just wouldn't have minded having a family of my own."

His expression turned serious, a feat considering that he wasn't exactly the epitome of humor, displeased by her implications. "You make it sound so final. We may survive this yet. A family can still be yours."

Sure, they might survive this suicide mission. But how much longer after that did Thane have? Months? Weeks? Despite her reluctance to utter the prohibited L-word, Shepard really just couldn't envision herself settling down with anyone else.

Forcing a smile onto her lips, she attempted to brighten the grim mood that was beginning to burrow beneath her flesh. "The Normandy and her crew are my family, and I couldn't ask for a better one."

His thinned lips twisted ever so slightly upward, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for her sake. He didn't need further explanation, understanding what she meant and how she felt. Thane was good for that, understanding and acceptance. He didn't try to change her, and for that Shepard was grateful.

* * *

The shuttle bumped as it entered the atmosphere of the planet. It would have taken far too long for them to get past customs and security checkpoints had the entire Normandy landed. They still had to wade through all that crap before they got to go to the hospital but at least they didn't have to dock an entire warship.

The whole crew had wanted to accompany her. And Shepard had been tempted to allow them. But this wasn't a field trip, not really. And it wasn't exactly fair to her sister in-law. This was her time to shine. The presence of the Normandy crew would undoubtedly covet the spotlight. If anything Shepard should have been going alone.

But she couldn't leave Thane behind. Anya was giddy with exhilaration in introducing him to her family. They were going to love him. And since they all already knew Garrus, Tali, and Joker, it was only right that they tag along as well.

"I don't know if the galaxy is ready for another Shepard, Shepard." Joker teased as they were en route to the hospital. The others chuckled their agreement, more than happy to voice their participation in the teasing.

Shaking his head, the turian's mandibles spread as he smiled. "The galaxy will be fine," Garrus assured him. "It's the domesticated Shepard doing all of the breeding." His small steel blue eyes drifted to where Anya was seated, face flaps fluttering with another chuckle. "Now if the Commander ever decided to start procreating, then we'd all be doomed."

"Lucky for us, your taste in men makes that impossible, eh, Shepard?" Joker completed.

She coughed out a false laugh. If it had been biologically possibly, Shepard would have loved to have had Thane's children. A little drell-human hybrid that was the manifestation of everything that they shared, and after Thane died, she cringed at the thought, it would have given her something to live for. But it wasn't possible, and Shepard could just as easily be killed in the next battle they entered. Dwelling on such thoughts only served to dampen her day. And this wasn't a day that was meant to be dampened.

Arriving at the hospital, the motley crew of assorted species was directed to the maternity wing. It was surprisingly quiet considering the stories of torturous pain child labor was said to cause. The group hadn't stridden far before a voice called their leader to a stop.

"Banana?" It was a childhood pet name, one that she hated growing up but had grown fond of in adulthood.

Following the voice, a grin consumed her face as joy spread through her. "Kael," she shouted as she ran towards her little brother. Her mind didn't even register that she now had to stand on the tips of her toes in order to wrap her arms around his neck. He would always be her little brother.

"When I sent the message I didn't even think you'd get it," he hugged her even tighter, "much less actually come."

"Of course I came," and for him to think otherwise hurt on a level she wouldn't acknowledge until later.

They separated, giving her a chance to see how her brother had changed in the two years since she'd last seen him. He was a tall man, standing at 6'3. He shared their mother's burgundy hair color. And his eyes were more the shade of pine, caught somewhere between dark green and blue. Michael was sporting a rather fatherly goatee, and the crinkles at the sides of his mouth and the corners of his eyes admitted to how much happiness his family brought him.

Unable to help herself, she threw her arms around him again. Tears stinging her eyes, she fought them off as she breathed, "Oh, Kael, it's so good to see you again."

Rubbing her back he said into her hair, "I've missed you, Banana."

Then Shepard felt the tugging on the hem of her shirt. Looking down she was faced with a tiny version of her brother. His hazel eyes occupied so much of his head, reminding Anya of Thane's orbital gaze. Now that he had his aunt's attention a toothy grin conquered the other half of Mika's face. "Auntie Anya, Daddy said you were dead."

With a laugh Shepard scooped her nephew into her arms and heaved him onto her hip. He was much heavier than she remembered him being. "And stay away from my favorite nephew?" Brushing his reddish brown hair from his face she admired the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "Not even death could keep me away, Mika."

"But you forgot my birthday," he countered, "twice!"

Shepard glanced over at Thane to give him an I told you so look. He smiled in response. Returning her attention to the boy on her hip she said, "Or maybe your present is so amazing that it had to wait two years to be delivered to you." His eyes grew at the prospect.

Michael and Anya caught the movement over Mika's shoulder at the same time. Her blood froze in panic.

"Alright Big Guy, let's meet Auntie Anya's friends," mumbled Michael as he repossessed his son from his sister's grasp, stealing from her the only shield she had from the incoming confrontation.

"Anya," Hannah Shepard pulled her daughter into her arms and embraced her tightly enough to cut off her oxygen supply.

She hugged her mother back just as tightly, "Mom." No other words needed to be exchanged. That simple transaction had voiced her mother's years of suffering. Hannah Shepard had thought her only daughter to be dead, had mourned the loss of a child. Shepard hated that she had put her mother through that kind of pain. If she could have taken it all back, she would have. If she could have told her mother that she was going to be fine, she would have. Instead she had only given her family suffering.

When they pulled apart it was with tears in their eyes. She knew that this reunion was going to be an emotional one. But she hadn't anticipated the onslaught of guilt, the shame that she felt for forcing them to needlessly mourn her. Shepard was glad to have been among the living, she only wished that it had been sooner so that their pain would have been shorter lived.

Her gaze went to her father then. Michael Shepard senior had never been one for hugging. And Anya ignored that fact as she wrung her arms around her father and squeezed, "It's good to see you, Dad." His features were like steel, humorless, military hardened. But his eyes gave him away. He was happy to see his little girl again. She knew that he was, even if he didn't know how to say it.

Before her father could start berating her about her Cerberus ties, Shepard gestured to the four onlookers who were standing awkwardly to the side. "Mom, Dad, Michael, you all know my friends Garrus, Tali, and Joker." Moving to where Thane was standing Shepard intertwined her fingers through his, proudly proclaiming that he was hers no matter what they thought. "And this is Thane, a new addition to the Normandy crew."

Hannah looked to her husband for a moment before her expression was softened by the most welcoming of smiles. "It is so good to meet you, Thane," the drell moved to offer her his hand and she swatted it away before enveloping him in a hug. Then turning to the rest of the crew she went on to give them their own motherly embrace.

Shepard Senior accepted the handshake, if somewhat grudgingly. His stern blue eyes went back to his daughter. Displeasure thinned his already severe lips. Straightening his shoulders and holding his wrist behind his back he cut straight through the bullshit. "Your mother and I heard of your allegiance with Cerberus." He said it as though it were a fact she were trying to hide, and a shameful one at that. No, Shepard didn't like working for Cerberus, hated it even. But what else was she going to do? If he had any bright ideas he could go ahead and enlighten her.

He inspected the drell still loyally standing at her side, then the other crewmates she had dragged along with her. "Drell, quarian, turian, I'm surprised Cerberus has employed such exotic personnel."

Unable to help herself she snorted, "There's an Asari, Krogan, and Salarian back on the Normandy. Let's not forget them." Michael Shepard senior was not only the head of his household, but he was her senior officer. She had to remind herself to behave like the soldier he expected her to be.

His jaw tightened, an irritable tick under his eye alerting her to his thin patience. Glaring down at his daughter, he wondered, "Why, Anya? Why Cerberus? After everything they've done, and everything you've seen them do. How could you possibly align yourself with them?" All of his shame in her actions was voiced into the questions. He was an Alliance soldier through and through. It didn't matter the circumstances, he would never understand her position. No wonder he and Kaidan had gotten along so well.

Tightening her hold on Thane's hand, Shepard breathed hard through her nose, trying and failing to calm her temper before she blew up at her father. He wanted to know why? She would tell him why. "Because the Alliance declared me dead, Dad. Because it was Cerberus who bothered to find me, rebuild me, and do something about the abducted colonists. The Alliance and the Council are sitting on their thumbs while people are disappearing by the thousands. What did you expect me to do? Nothing?"

"I expected you to be an Alliance Marine," was his uncompromising reply.

Before she could open her mouth to rebuke, Thane stepped between them, halting the words on her lips. Meeting her father's gaze, the drell's smooth, gravelly voice intervened. "Your daughter remains the soldier you remember her to be. It takes great strength to set aside one's trepidations for the greater good. She has saved countless lives and will save countless more. She has earned your respect and admiration."

The two men then held a glaring contest. To Shepard's surprise, it was her father that backed down first. With a nod to Thane he assented, "And she has both." A semblance of what could have been a smirk softened his expression. "Enough of this," he sighed, eyes floating to where Michael Junior stood with his son he did actually smile, "You've yet to meet the newest Shepard."

Her body was still vibrating from the praise that Thane had forced her father to admit. In all her years of service he had never confessed to admiring his daughter, had never owned up to how proud he was of her. Forced or not, Anya was elated to have heard the praise. Grin returning to full blast, she nodded that she was eager to get to the reason for their visitation.

"Come on," Michael materialized beside them. His face was one of a father proud to show off the newest addition to his family. "I'll take you to them."

Shepard and Thane followed her brother into one of the rooms. Garrus, Tali, Joker, and her parents stayed outside, not wanting to overcrowd Michael's wife in her fragile state. Shepard yielded at the sight of her sister-in-law. Cassandra, Michael's wife, was pale. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was a mess, and she looked tired as hell. All of that notwithstanding, she was the most gorgeous woman Anya had ever seen. Her euphoria of being a mother made her glow like the Sun. Cradled in her arms was a bundle of pink swaddled by pink.

Anya approached slowly, dragging Thane along with her. Her eyes were boring into the cute fleshy thing in Cassandra's arms, an unnatural sound of delight about to burst from her mouth. When her gaze lifted to meet her sister-in-law's she said, "You look gorgeous, Cassandra, as always."

"Oh, shush," she blushed despite herself.

She was already reaching out to the baby as she asked, "May I?"

"Of course," Cassandra gently passed the infant into Shepard's hands.

An emotion that Shepard could not explain, hatched in her gut. She had felt something similar when she first held Mika. Her hands, calloused by battle, the instruments of destruction, so accustomed to taking lives, held this innocent little girl. This perfect little being didn't know hate or malice, she was pure. She was the embodiment of hope. Shepard stood in speechless awe of the tiny life in her hands.

Michael stood at the end of his wife's hospital bed, watching his sister as she watched his daughter. With a grin he disclosed, "We're naming her Ana, after all of the powerful women in the Shepard family."

"She's perfect," Anya whispered.

As she gazed down at little baby Ana, sorrow started to nest somewhere in the thicket of Shepard's chest. Glancing over her shoulder to where Thane was trapped in conversation with her brother, she tried to stay the sadness from her features.

In spite of her deepest wishes, Shepard was not meant to raise her own family. There was no certainty that she would live to tell the tale of this bullshit with the Collectors. But even if she did somehow manage, there were still the Reapers that she'd have to contend with. If she dared to hope that she'd live to see victory, Thane didn't have much time left. She couldn't see herself starting a family without him. Hers was a dismal fate .The best Shepard could do was steal these moments with her brother and his family, and pretend for just a second that the galaxy had chosen another to be its tireless savior.

* * *

The explosion was everything. The sight of it hit her before the heat of it did. Shepard's already broken body was sent flying, thrown aside, discarded. She didn't feel anything anymore, not her lifeless body, not her heart. A fleeting smile carved her cracked lips. The time had finally come. She was finally dead. When she next awoke, it would be across a sea and in Thane's amorous arms.


	5. Chapter Four

The void began to recede. The blackness that ran thick like oil in his veins was thinning. Numbness tingled along his fingertips, sensation re-inhabiting his body in slow unsteady waves. His heart beat accelerated as his consciousness began to re-acclimatize to the vessel that had once been his. After drifting in the land of in between, body and soul were at last reuniting.

His resting place was hard, uncomfortable as it supported his deathly stiff body. Still unable to stir or pull his lids apart, Thane took a moment to reach out with his senses. It was his first acknowledged breath that was the most unsettling. It wasn't that the air was still, lifeless, lacking movement or filter. It wasn't even that it tasted stale against his palate.

When he inhaled it was without pain. His lungs did not bubble like boiling water. His chest no longer caved within itself, threatening to kill him in a fit of unconquerable coughing. Though his chest was not without pain, the ache was of sore bones, not the familiar torment brought upon by his Kepral's.

As if waking up alive was not surprise enough, the ease of breath was too much for him to consider while his mind was moving so slowly. Deciding it was best to acknowledge the astonishment at another time, Thane felt out what he could about his surroundings. The void of lifelessness couldn't steal from him a lifetime of assassin training.

"_Code Red threat level detected. Shuttles prepared for evacuation. All personnel are directed to shuttle bay immediately upon termination of project data._" A VI's voice repeated, its calm tone recurring the mantra until the words nipped at his patience. Thane was surprised that he had not awakened sooner. With that irking repetition, it should have been impossible for even the dead to find rest.

Something was very wrong. A code red threat level was hardly ever a reassuring occurrence. Thane forced his eyes open in attempt to reclaim the rest of his body. He woke from the black only to find himself drowning in more darkness. After several blinks of both lids, Thane recognized the present black to be a lack of light and not his lack of sight. A green console at the door helped his eyes adjust to the surrounding darkness. A bit of relief was able to slipped through the dense fog that surrounded his mind.

Pushing himself up onto an elbow, a groan resonated in the lightless room, a voice he recognized as his own. Reaching for his face, Thane tried to wipe the clouds from his vision, but as he lifted his hand the appendage was caught, leashed at his side. Confused gaze stumbling down to where his arm hung mid-air, his vision was focused enough to recognize the IV taped to his skin. When he reached with his other hand, to unhook himself from the tubing, Thane noticed the heart monitor secured onto his finger.

Without much further thought, he freed himself from the wiring fastening him to the hospital bed. Thane's drowsy mind was still considering the hospital equipment. The machine that was supposed to be supervising his vitals hadn't chirped once, had not picked up on his accelerated heartbeat, the screen was not even on. It, along with all the other mechanisms in the room, was malfunctioning.

Why had he been disregarded, abandoned to broken machinery in a room that had not been the one he died in?

When he was finally sitting up, Thane tossed his legs over the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. The fog was starting to clear, though the world was still off kilter. He needed a moment to collect himself and reclaim full control of his limbs.

After a few breathy minutes the haze finally dissipated. His disorientation surrendered, leaving Thane weary of the unsettling stillness that surrounded him. The building he woke in was dead, lifeless, just as he should have been. When he died, Huerta had still been very much alive. The voices of doctors, patients, and loved ones had been a constant din. But now the only sound was of the VI urging him to evacuate to the shuttle bay.

Dislodging his face from the dry scales of his hands he finally pushed himself to explore his surroundings. Teeth clenching as he slid off of the edge of the bed, he decided to test his feet. Immediately after placing his weight onto his long unused feet, Thane collapsed, catching the mattress before falling into a heap on the cold linoleum floor. As his weak arms pulled himself back upright he wondered just how long he'd been banished to the land of in between. Thane was very grateful to be on this side of the sea. He just wished that he had an idea as to why he had awoken at all. As soon as his body acquiesced to his mind's demands, he was going to find out.

With another deep breath, he resolved to try his feet a second time. They disagreed with the forgotten pressures of standing. Frustration began to ember along the fringes of Thane's patience. His mind remembered how to walk, but the prolonged disuse left his limbs forgetful. A few breaths later he tested his resolve once more.

Leaning most of his weight against the bed, Thane found his feet. A quick prayer was sent to Arashu before he placed one unsure step forward. As he wobbled and nearly fell once more, Thane realized that it was just as he feared. Until his limbs were re-accustomed to the liberties of living, he would need to lean against something to support his weight. It was a weakness. It left him vulnerable to possible attack.

His wavering feet dragged in the direction of the large rectangular window, blinds secured tightly shut. He needed to know where he was. Thane needed to have a plan laid out, and that meant an escape route. If he was still in Huerta, jumping out the window was not an option. His hospital room had been too high up to risk throwing himself out of, but Thane had a troubling feeling that he was not at Huerta.

Pulling apart the blinds, a beam of bright light shoved him a clumsy step back. No, he was not in Huerta anymore. Thane was not even on the Citadel. He looked out at the woods surrounding him. Trees and greenery reached for the cloudless blue heavens with dancing limbs. He was on a planet. Which one, he had not the slightest inkling. The room he was occupying was at least three stories above ground level. Far too high for him to scale in his current condition. Thane would have to find another way out. And that meant that an investigation was in order.

Gradually he managed to stumble towards the door, hand drawing across the wall as he used it for support. The exertion was tiring. When Thane reached the green console, he was leaning his weight entirely upon the door. He braced himself. The moment he coerced the entry open, he was going to fall. Sliding his hand over the green panel the double doors parted with a whisper and Thane fell to his knees, shaking hands holding him upright.

The stench hit him, punching him in the empty stomach the second he inhaled the hallway air. The oxygen that invaded his lungs with sharpened claws and unsheathed fangs was tainted, filthy, destroyed by the mephitis of decay. Someone had died. And by the reek of it they had been dead for some time now.

Biting back a dry heave, Thane breathed through his mouth, ignoring the ongoing urge to vomit. He was done with his body's pitiful lack of tenacity. His fingers rolled into tight fists as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. A grunt escaped him as his muscles struggled to carry him forward. When Thane was up and balancing a feeling of relief washed over him like a coming tide. He could stand. And if he could stand then he could walk.

A lifetime of instinct began to resurface. He had to investigate his surroundings. He needed to be sure that there was indeed no threat against him. Stretching out his disused digits, Thane longed for the familiar weight of a firearm in his grasp. Presently, hand to hand combat was far from an option. He could barely carry his own weight; much less throw it around with accuracy and efficiency. He needed a weapon.

As he dragged his feet down the hall, a small number of still functional lights flickered on, the current of electricity causing the stripped wiring to spark and burst. A few drawn out minutes later, Thane happened upon the center of the research facility. The lights came on, illuminating a warzone. He had found the source of the decay. The noisomeness of rotting flesh sat thick in the air, clogging his now functional lungs with the revolting taste of death.

Bodies were strewn about, dried blood splattered the walls and pooled on the floor like a lake of green and red. Stepping deeper into the fog of death, Thane inspected the decaying corpses. Given the rate of their decomposition it appeared that they had been dead for a few weeks already. Both human and salarian corpses lay in heaps on opposite sides of the room.

The lack of any other species in the pile of dead combatants provoked his curiosity. Thane dragged himself over to the far side of the room, stepping over and around deceased salarians to sate his nagging curiosity.

Taking a knee beside the human body nearest him, Thane's gaze scrutinized their white, black, and yellow armor. It was heavy, expensive, and made from the best materials for optimal mobility and defense. Running fingers along the breastplate, he felt an engraving covered with blood. He used a fingernail to chip away the dried crimson and was less than surprised when he found what he was looking for.

His jaw tightened with distaste. Cerberus. Judging by the defensive arrangement of the salarian cadavers, he could easily derive that the research facility was non-human funded. The attack was from Cerberus. But what reason would the human elitists have for attacking the facility? Did it have to do with Thane still being alive? Maybe if he explored the rest of the building he would find some human test subjects.

He would not find any answers to his questions here. Looking down at the Cerberus solder's side arm, Thane took the opportunity to relieve him of it. His fingers wound tightly around the gun, grateful for its weight and familiarity. Thane was alone in a dead building. He did not likely need the gun, but having it gave him comfort.

Reclaiming his feet, Thane hobbled over to the nearest computer terminal. Since finding himself on this side of the sea he had been plagued with question after question. He had yet to find an answer to a single one. The most important being how he was still alive. The gun scraped the desktop as he set it down for a moment. He leaned his weight against the desk, to catch his breath, before reaching for the holo-pad. A screen stirred to life before him, awakening to his touch. There was no data to be found in the machine. It had been wiped clean. His questions would remain unanswered.

Thane bit back his frustration and straightened his back. His energy was wavering as it was. He must not exhaust himself trying to hack into a salarian research computer. The hanar had not trained him for this. With a sigh, his fingers reclaimed the gun and followed the path that would return him to the room he had woken in.

He didn't need to know what they were researching to formulate his own conclusion. The salarians had been studying something big, big enough to bring Thane back from the dead. And the Illusive Man had sent out a team to destroy the facility and its research. There had been a fight and, from what he could tell, neither side had emerged the victor. It was a safe assumption to settle on. And for the time being it was the only one he had. But still too many questions were left unanswered.

Now that he was certain of his safety, Thane allowed his mind to wander to questions he could not have dwelled on before. Where was his Siha? Was Kolyat safe? Was the war over? Had it been won? And primarily, where were his clothes? The hospital gown he had awoken in was letting in an uncomfortable breeze.

Returning to the window Thane pulled open the blinds, summoning the daylight to distract him from the gloom beyond his room. The bathroom light resuscitated as he pulled the door open. Thane blinked away from the sudden lighting, his eyes adjusted quickly. A few more blinks and he recognized the man in the mirror to be himself.

Thane had lost weight. His once muscular chest and arms were no longer the threat they had once been. His cheeks were hollow. The crimson ribbing along his neck and jaw was pale, a distinct sign of inadequate nutrition. Carefully reaching back for the strings holding his hospital gown together, he pulled it until the knot collapsed and his gown came undone.

Shrugging out of the robe, the cloth fell to the floor around his feet. Thane sucked in a breath. His torso was bandaged. From just below his underarms all the way down to his navel-less abdomen. A thin vertical line of red bled through the bandages. Now dry blood professing a long overdue change of dressing.

To the surprise of many, killing was not the only skill the hanar had instilled in him. He needed to know how to patch up a wound should he get caught in a fray. Thane was no Doctor Chakwas, but he had skill enough to know how to cleanse and dress an injury. The tools he needed were no further than the room he had reawakened in.

Thane placed the scissors, gauze, and medical tape on the bathroom counter. Filling a basin with warm water and tossing a rag into the liquid, he began to cut through the layers of bandages that had seemingly held him together. His healing flesh refused to part with the gauze. The dry blood stuck like Velcro as he pulled the bandages from his body. Without so much as wincing, he slowly eased the dirty dressings away from his body until he was finally free of it.

What lay beneath made him bite back a curse. An angry red line clawed straight up his chest, starting from just below his rib cage all the way up to his collar bone. To his relief it didn't look infected. Surprisingly, it actually looked as though it were passing through the final stages of healing. As Thane took the damp cloth from the basin and wrung it dry, he wondered what exactly had been done to him.

Was there a new set of lungs under that thick, mean looking scar? Did his now easy breathing mean that he was free of Kepral's Syndrome? That was almost too much to hope for. So Thane proceeded to mechanically clean the wound and redress it without further contemplation of what the surgical scar meant for him.

Once the new bandages were in place, Thane used the washcloth to clean the rest of his body. He didn't know how long he had been in this medical facility. But, judging by the corpses outside, it had been weeks since he had been properly tended to. It was enough time to build up quite the stink, one comparable to the death outside of his room.

Freshly bathed and bandaged Thane ventured out to locate his leathers and some food to ease into his stomach. The rest of the building was much like what he had encountered in the research center. Bodies were thrown against walls and along the floors, blood spattered across the surfaces like dried paint.

He found the employee lounge before he found his rightful clothes. Cutting straight for the pantry, Thane ignored the refrigerator all together. He could assume that it would smell no better inside the cool box than it was outside. He would keep to the non-perishables if he could.

Scavenging out some nutrition packages, he gingerly opened up one crinkly wrapped bar and placed a generous amount into his mouth. Thane knew the risks of over eating after going so long without physical food in his stomach. He was disciplined enough to take it slowly, but hungry enough to push it just a little.

Satisfied that he had ingested sufficient food nourishment to get his metabolism up and running again, he went on to explore the rest of the building. He ripped open drawers and pulled apart cabinets in all the rooms he searched, left nothing unturned or uncharted in his pursuit for the familiar form fitting clothes he favored.

It was not until he stumbled upon a loading dock of sorts, that he found his clothes. They had been stowed away in a crate, deeply embedded in a pile of unfamiliar wardrobe. His body tensed when he had to sift through articles of unclaimed clothing in order to find his own. He had not been the only test subject in this facility. Far from it. But in his investigation he had found no one else. There had been no other dead drells in hospital beds, no bodies forgotten in dark rooms still connected to faulty equipment by tubes and wires. He wondered, not for the first time that day, why he was alive.

As Thane slipped into his leathers, he decided to locate the shuttle bay. Aside from his questionable resurrection the research facility had proven to bring very little to fruition. He unearthed zero answers to any of the hundred queries he had formulated. If there were no answers to be found here, then he would have to go elsewhere. He just hoped that there was still a shuttle functional enough to get him off-world.

The shuttle bay was located at the top of the structure. At least ten shuttles slumbered there, untouched since the Cerberus attack. It appeared as though every shuttle that had ever belonged to the facility could still be found in the bay, indicating that not a single being had made it out with their lives. Kalahira, goddess of oceans and afterlife, may these souls find peace on your shores. Cerberus had claimed so much life. The only good they had ever committed had to be bringing back his Siha.

Thane looked beyond the opening shuttle bay doors. The forestation rejoiced in the daylight. Green danced across the expanse of this planet's horizon, offering peace and hope to its admirers. The color was familiar to him, an enchanting combination of shades of green that reminded him of the emerald shade of Anya's irises.

His breath hitched as black filled his vision, the vista disappearing behind an overwhelming memory. Thane was brought to his knees as his mind drowned him in the past. He could not fight it off or shake it away. This memory would be replayed, whether he wanted it to or not.

* * *

Thane had not meant to intrude. He had been sitting comfortably on the sofa, contemplating the reflective orb levitating over the coffee table, patiently awaiting her arrival. Anya had explained that it was Prothean in origin, an artifact that she had discovered while taking the hammerhead out for a test drive. It was the second of its kind that she had encountered. The first had been after shaking down a fleet of space monkeys, a story she told with amusing detail. The Hanar would have paid handsomely to obtain such an artifact. No price was too high to possess something of the Enkindlers', a thought he discarded at the sound of the loft doors parting.

Shepard entered the cabin wordlessly, not noticing his presence as she connected with Admiral Hackett, not even offering him a chance to voice his presence before the Admiral started making requests. The Admiral's grim appearance covered the encasing of her model ship collection, brightening Siha's features in the otherwise lightless room.

"_Commander. Thank you for your time. I'll keep this brief._" He debriefed her on a classified mission, one better referred to as a favor to a friend. It was a personal errand, a task he could entrust to no one else. Thane was less than surprised when Shepard accepted the mission without hesitation, despite the risks. She had something to prove to the Admiral. Anya needed to show where her loyalties still lay.

With a curt nod she voiced her acceptance of the task. "I'll make this a priority."

The Admiral explained the prison's location then assured her that she would get the rest of the information shortly. Without so much as a thank you, he ended the conversation as tersely as he had started it, "_Hackett out_."

Something about the way the Admiral treated Anya did not sit well with Thane. His Siha was not an acting Alliance soldier. She was willing to perform this dangerous errand for the man out of respect for their long standing friendship, and maybe a bit out of duty. The least he could do was show some gratitude for her willingness.

When she and Hackett disconnected Thane stood from the sofa, finally able to voice his presence in the room. "Siha," Anya leaped at the sound of his voice. His lips twitched upward at the sight of her surprise. Shepard did not startle easily. Not many people ever got the slip on her.

Ascending the few steps to where she stood, Thane leaned his weight against her desk. She moved to him, placing herself between his legs, her fingers feeling up his chest to the ribbing of his neck as his grasp found her hips and wove around her waist. There was a rightness about their proximity. Her place was in his arms, just as his place was at her side.

Observing her serene features, he went on to say, "My apologies, Siha. I did not mean to overhear."

A smile unearthed across her swollen lips. She shrugged off his apology as unnecessary, a demonstration of her trust in him. "No need for apologies, Krios. We both know that you're a shameless spy."

He returned her smile with a kiss. Brushing crimson strands from her eyes he replied, "I'll leave the spying to Kasumi," his mirth dissipated as he recalled Hackett's request. Features sobering, Thane could not help but add, "Just as you should leave foisting to those more experienced."

"More experienced," she repeated with a scoff. Her emerald eyes narrowed as she removed his hands from around her waist and took a step away from him before she could rebuke. "You do realize that that's what I do, don't you?" Anya raised a disapproving eyebrow. She was insulted by his insinuation, and rightfully so. "I'm an infiltrator, Thane. I didn't get classified as such because it enhances my already colorful resume. Sneaking around undetected is kind of part of the job description."

Thane had confidence in her abilities. He hadn't meant to imply otherwise. She was a fantastic infiltrator. Her skill almost on par with Kasumi's antics. But that wasn't consolation enough. Knowing she was great at something didn't mean that he was comfortable with her going it alone. "I do not doubt your capabilities, Anya. It's that he expects you to do this on your own that makes me uncomfortable."

Shepard closed the distance between them again. Gentle fingers traced the lines of his velvet ribbing. A soft smile ticked the corners of her mouth at the sound of him humming in approval. It was his fault that their relationship had not yet escalated to a carnal level. Though he could not admit it, Thane was giving Shepard a chance to turn him away, to come to her senses and realize that loving a man so close to death would only result in heartache.

He knew it frustrated her. Anya needed more of him. She needed all of him, but Thane wanted to protect her. He could not bear the thought of her mourning him as he had mourned Irikah. Even though he needed her just as badly as she needed him. Thane needed to know her, all of her, to feel every part of her. His body ached for her warmth, for the union not only of their flesh but of their souls as well.

Still he resisted, dodged her advances, flirted with temptation. All to keep her safe from his ultimate passing. But he could resist her for only so long. His resolve was already dangerously thin. And Thane had a feeling that Shepard could tell.

"I know it's not ideal," She started as her fingers felt the angles of his cheek. "Going in without anyone to watch my back doesn't sit well with me either. But Hackett needs this of me. And I need to show him that I'm an Alliance soldier first and foremost, even if the Normandy is currently flying Cerberus colors."

Thane would not argue with her anymore. Her mind was made. She was going to break an accused terrorist out of prison, alone, and there was nothing that he could say or do to change that. His Siha would not be moved by his words or actions, so Thane grudgingly acquiesced. He trusted her to avoid any heroics and return to his arms. But the others would not be silenced as easily.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he observed, "Your crew will be displeased."

She shut her eyes as if suddenly considering how the others would take the news of her most recent mission. With a sigh, Anya shook her head, the strands of her blood red hair falling into her face before she brushed them back. "Well, they're just going to have to suck it up. First person to give me lip is going to be made an example of."

"Then I'll be sure to keep my lips to myself," Thane teased.

"Don't you dare." Anya claimed his lips with hers, coaxing his mouth to part as she caressed his bottom lip with her tongue. As she explored the inside of his mouth her smell filled his nose, swirling into his lungs like a drug. If he could, Thane would have bottled the scent to keep with him always. It summoned the memory of the pond they swam in those weeks ago. The image of her so close to nakedness made his body warm and achy.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself ever closer to him. Their bodies were treacherously pressed together. Thane could feel all of her, could even feel her heart picking up speed. He wound his arms tightly around her, embedding her even deeper into his embrace. His hands wandered, feeling her back, the small of it, the plane just before the glorious curve of her back side. The temptation to grab a handful of her bottom, to satisfy the urge to fondle that flesh, was almost unbearable. She was too much, too much enticement. His willpower to abstain from her was wavering.

In attempt to reestablish their usual comfortable, if somewhat sexually repressed, demeanor Thane ripped his lips from hers and slid out from under her arms. He needed the distance between them. His resolve was shoddy. If she knew how close he was to abandoning the need to preserve what little emotional protection she had from him, she wouldn't have allowed their lips to have parted.

Thane felt her frustration as strongly as he felt his own. His body raged against him, bellowing at being denied the warrior angel that would appease his needs. He was nearly at his wit's end. Anya, and his body, would soon both be sated. The struggle of denying her was almost more like a game. How long could he go without knowing her completely? Too long, it would seem.

Shepard crossed her arms. Her features were tense with her aggravation. The greens of her eyes narrowed with displeasure. When she spoke it was nearly a growl, a warning he would be wise to heed. "Keep denying me like this, Krios, and I will ravish you."

He did not reply. Anything that came out of his mouth next would have been an invitation for her to do just that. Instead Thane moved towards the fish tank, avoiding her annoyed glare as he asked, "When will you leave?"

His body ached when she took up the space at his side. He needed to touch her but resisted, knowing how close he was to claiming her, body and soul.

Rolling her shoulders she answered, "I told Hackett that I'd make this a priority. That means I really shouldn't sit with my thumb up my ass. I'll inform the crew then see myself out." Tossing him a sidelong glance she added as assurance, "I'll be back before you can miss me."

Turning his body to face hers, Thane pulled the Commander into his arms, holding her close as he ran his fingers through her glossy crimson hair. "Even a moment out of your presence is an eternity without oxygen."

He felt her melting in his embrace. Her eyes softened before narrowing again. Fists tightly clenching the front of his leathers she reminded him of her previous warning. "Don't tease me, Drell."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest unbidden. Nodding an apology he released her from his grasp, instantly missing the feeling of her body against his. Thane placed a gentle kiss on her brow before turning towards the door. "I'll leave you to your preparations," he muttered as he departed from her cabin.

An uneasy feeling began to nest in the deep of his gut. This favor for a friend was not sitting well with him, and instinct dictated that he be on high alert.

* * *

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Jack's outrage was the loudest of all the protests, but the squad had voiced their disapproval all at the same time. Thane smirked. Shepard would have a difficult time figuring out who had been the first to give her lip, and a tougher time making an example out of them.

"Enough," Shepard silenced her squad with a snarl. Her glare pinned Jack in place. "No, I am not fucking kidding you." Her scowl panned across the bodies that occupied the conference room. Satisfied that her team would allow her to go on uninterrupted, she continued. "This is important. And taking a squad will attract attention. That's why I have to go alone."

"Batarians are soft," Grunt was eager to accompany his battle-master into any fight, as were they all. "Why bother sneaking around? You should just kill anyone who gets in your way."

She ignored the krogan's bloodlust. Rubbing the agitation from her brow, she spoke, "Look, my mind has been made. I'm going, alone. I didn't bring you all here to argue. I brought you together as a courtesy, nothing less nothing more. There will be radio silence until I've secured the doctor. I'll be in and out before you know it. So, please, behave yourselves."

Miranda was about to continue with a very well thought out argument before Anya's glare made her screw her mouth tightly shut. Relenting with a sneer she grumbled, "It seems we can't stop you."

"No," Shepard agreed, "you can't."

"I don't like this, Shepard," Garrus' gaze was concerned as he inspected his friend's determined features. To Thane's surprise he did not argue with her. The turian gave his commander a nod, showing his unwavering support. "But I trust you. You get this done then come back. We've got Collectors to deal with."

His Siha nodded her agreement and appreciation. To the rest of her team, she said, "I won't be long," before dismissing them and making her way to the shuttle bay. Thane and Garrus both accompanied her during the elevator ride down.

"Boys, I'm serious," her tone was reproving yet amused. Shepard didn't like being hovered over but accepted their over-protectiveness good-naturedly. "I can handle only one mother hen on this goddamn ship, and Miranda does a more than sufficient job in that area."

They disembarked the elevator and made their way to the ready shuttle. When they were only yards away she turned on them, the scowl on her lips more playful than impatient. To Garrus she instructed, "I expect you to make sure that everyone is on their best behavior. The Normandy better be in one fucking piece when I get back or I will have your head."

Garrus chuckled, the discomfort was evident in his voice but he didn't bring attention to it so neither did they. "I'll do my best, Shepard."

"I'm not kidding, Gare-Bear. The mice will play while the cat is away."

"Got it," he shook his head, bemused by her pseudo-stern tone. "The vermin will be on our best behavior."

"Good," she smiled at her friend. Turning her gaze to Thane, the smile on her lips developed to something different, softened with heavier emotions. "And you," she poked him in the chest for emphasis, "If this takes a little longer than I anticipate, I expect you to feed my fish."

Thane fought the smile from his mouth. Parting was as difficult for her as it was for him. Removing her hand from his chest and bringing it to his lips Thane remarked, "Is that not what you have Ms. Chambers for?"

"Kelly is relieved from that task until I return." It was Anya's not so subtle way of telling him that she wanted him to be there when she arrived, in her cabin waiting for her.

He would not argue. He planned on being there upon her return whether she had requested it or not. With a nod he consented, "The fish will be fed."

"Alright," Shepard unwillingly removed her hand from his grasp and replaced it at her side before glancing at the shuttle at her back. "See you boys soon," she said as she turned and disappeared behind the closing door.

Garrus and Thane both watched as the shuttle departed. The turian sighed, his breath as tense as his body. With a quick shake of his head he admitted, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Disclosing that he felt the same was not an option. Even if Shepard was well out of hearing distance she still needed their support. "She'll be fine," the assurance was for the both of them. She needed to be fine. Anything less was unacceptable. "Shepard can handle herself."

His mandibles flapped. "Yeah," Garrus didn't sound convinced, but then again neither was Thane. "I'm going to do some calibrating. If you need me, you know where to find me." He turned on his heel and left the drell to his thoughts.

* * *

"_Thane_," EDI's voice filled Shepard's cabin, interrupting the meditations he'd been only halfheartedly indulging. "_Gabriella and Kenneth would like to speak with you on the engineering deck_."

Quirking an eyebrow, Thane glanced toward the orb projection by the loft's entrance. Only a few crew members were comfortable enough with him to actively seek him out. Ms. Daniels and Kenneth Donnelly were not counted among those few. The request was uncommon, but Anya's absence made it suspicious.

Uncrossing his legs and reclaiming his feet he brushed off his pants as he inquired, "Do you know what about?"

"_They did not say._" The AI disappeared, anticipating that he had no further questions.

He gave the fish tank a fleeting glance before heading for the lift and starting the decent to engineering. Thane had a broad skill set, considering his previous vocation, but his knowledge of the inner workings of a highly advanced war ship left a bit to be desired. He could think of nothing that would require his assistance.

Thane did not want to consider an attack, but his training would not allow for him to dismiss the thought. His romance with the Commander was not vocally frowned upon, but this was still a Cerberus ship with a predominantly human crew. There were bound to be a few uncomfortable by an interspecies liaison.

The elevator stopped on engineering deck and Thane made the turn through the doors that would lead him to the drive core. Immediately he noticed the human biotic casually lingering halfway up the stairway. Ignoring her, he proceeded through the final doors. He would remain conscious of Jack, never disregarding her capabilities, but she was like an animal. Unless provoked she would remain fairly docile.

Gabriella and Kenneth both turned at the sound of the doors sliding open. With their attention on him Thane asked, "What's the matter," as he paced into their workspace. Though his gaze was on Gabby, he was fully aware of Zaeed looming by the door on Tali's side of the room.

Should this be an ambush, he would need to take out the biotic first. She was the wild card, unpredictable, a danger until he was close enough to snap her neck or sever her spine. Then he would have to deal with Zaeed. A task that would be simple if he was quick. The man was no longer a young human male. He had seen his prime, the apex of his abilities, and was on the declining end of his life. He was brute strength and big guns, not a style desirable for close quarter combat. Tali would be the next challenge, quick and nimble as she was. But Thane was confident that he would be able to incapacitate her. She was Anya's friend, killing her would only be an option if he had no other. That left Gabby and Kenneth. They were engineers with basic military training, hardly worth heavy consideration.

It was Kenneth that replied, appearing more relaxed than his female counterpart. "Nothing's wrong, mate." A smile brightened his friendly features as he added, "Nothing that an assassin would be able to help us with at least."

With an incredulous roll of her eyes, Gabriella intervened before her friend's social gracelessness could cause insult. "We didn't call you down here because we have a problem. It's Thursday," she offered as explanation with a shrug. When Thane didn't voice his understanding she clarified, "Every Thursday the Commander plays Skyllian-Five with us."

"And since the woman is currently indisposed, the lot of us are a player short." Zaeed pushed himself off of the wall as he addressed Thane. He spoke as though to a friend, a playfulness shining in his one good eye. "Who better to replace our unfailing leader than the scaly bastard slithering into her bed?"

Thane did notbother correcting him. The man would never have believed him anyway. A semi-smirk half formed on his lips as he considered. So this was an ambush after all. It just was not the type he had expected. Declining the invitation would have been an easy thing if it had been only Donnelly or Zaeed asking him; but saying no to Zaeed, Donnelly, Gabriella, Jack, and Tali was a different beast all together.

Smirk easing into a smile he agreed to a game. It could not hurt to become more familiar with the crew. It was something that his Siha was very vocal about. Nodding that he would play, Thane admitted, "I have never had the privilege of playing Skyllian-Five. You will have to be gentle with the novice."

"Not a chance," Kenneth barked with laughter. At his side Gabby was also sniggering at Thane's proposal. Answering the question in Thane's lifted brow he explained, "Commander Shepard used that line and robbed me blind. I'll be damned if I fall for that one again."

"Well, shit," Jack appeared at the doorway, a grin on her darkly painted lips. "You actually got the drell to agree. Looks like I owe you twenty creds, Ken."

"Keep your credits," Donnelly waived her off. A teasing smile made his expression wolfish. "You'll need every cred you can scrape up by the time I'm through with you."

"Your over confidence didn't help you last week, Kenneth," Tali scolded the human, though her voice held nothing but her amusement. "Or do I have to teach you another lesson on humility?"


	6. Chapter Five

They were already three hands deep of Skyllian-Five. Donnelly had not been jesting when he said he wouldn't go easy on Thane. The human was not even giving him a fighting chance.

He was picking up on the logistics and basics of the game. Though the reason he remained throughout his losing experience wasn't for the gambling. This motley crew on the deck of engineering was an unusual one. Gabby and Kenneth were old friends, yet welcomed the friendship of others with warm eyes and teasing smiles. The usually timid and quiet Tali was boisterous around her fellow engineers, her laugh a musical sound, and her energy was radiant. Jack's snarl was replaced by a sneer, the foxy change of her lips made her almost approachable. And Zaeed was himself through and through. Every word spoken was the lead up to another story on some unrelated level. He was an experienced veteran with tales to tell if there were ears willing to listen.

All in all, Thane could easily see why Anya set time aside every week to play cards with them. Thane decided that he would be accompanying her from then on out.

"She threw the table clear across the fucking room," Jack said behind a guffaw of pure delight. Careful to keep her cards concealed she continued, "I've never seen Tali lose her shit like that."

"I did not lose my shit," the quarian's tone was defensive as she adjusted the order of the cards in her hand. With a shrug she admitted, "Okay, maybe I lost it a little. But we had just returned from the Migrant Fleet. It was an emotional time for me."

Thane remembered the dramatic events Tali was referring to. Tali's people had used her as a scapegoat to skirt around their real qualms concerning the geth. He had been there when Tali found her father's body. He had born witness to the inadequate message he had left his daughter, and the embrace that Anya knew that Tali had so desperately needed. Considering the toll an experience such as the one she had gone through could take, the throwing of a few tables seemed like a reasonable response.

Deciding to turn away from an uncomfortable topic, Thane noticed that there was a member of engineering deck not present for their game. "Does Grunt not play Skyllian-Five?" he asked as he looked over the faces of his crew-mates. Gabby had a good hand. She always tucked her hair behind her ear when she had a good hand.

"He used to come play with us," said Zaeed with a laugh. Shaking his head he explained, "But that krogan is a sore loser. The last time that he played he and Jack almost fought to the death. If the Commander hadn't been here," he shook his head again. "Now the only game we play with Grunt is Skyllian-First-Blood. It should be violent enough for his liking."

A few more minutes passed of playful banter before Joker's voice sounded over the intercom. With a grin evident in his tone he announced, "The Commander just made contact. She has the Doctor and will be touching down at their base of operations. Momma's coming home soon, kiddos."

Thane couldn't help the smile that unearthed along his lips. He was more than ready for Siha to be returned to his arms. Folding his hand Thane said, "As pleasurable as this experience has been, I regretfully have some fish to feed." He pushed back his seat and made a move for the door. As his feet were set on their retreat the teasing began.

"Wouldn't want to keep your woman waiting, now would you?"

"He just knew that I was going to take all of his money, again."

"Coward. Does Shepard know you run away at the face of defeat?"

"You have only won the battle, Jack." Thane nodded his farewell before heading to the lift and returning to Anya's loft.

An uneasiness he dismissed as anticipation set up camp in his gut. What would happen when Anya returned to her cabin? Why exactly had she requested that he wait for her there? Thane felt he knew the answer to both questions. The only question that remained was whether or not he had the desire or willpower to continue to resist her.

* * *

Pacing the loft, Thane glanced at the clock on the nightstand for the hundredth time. The fish were fed, the space hamster was fed, the entire rest of the crew was fed, and Shepard had not returned. The feeling he'd disregarded for anticipation deepened. He now knew to acknowledge it as trepidation. Something had gone wrong. Siha was in danger. She was unaided and unaccounted for.

With a jagged exhale, his feet set out for the lift yet again. He needed to go to Joker. The pilot would be able to reach the Commander. He and EDI would find out why Anya had not, in the very least, checked in with them.

"I'm doing all I can, Garrus." The turian had beaten him to it. Standing behind the pilot's chair, he was monitoring the various screens before the seated human. Thane was both relieved and troubled to find him there. He could at least take some comfort in the fact that he was not alone in his distress.

When Garrus noticed Thane's arrival he greeted him with a nod. Returning his gaze to the monitors, he said, "Joker's having trouble reaching Shepard." There was a slight accusation in the statement, enough to be noticed, but not enough to be taken too seriously.

"I'm having trouble working with you breathing down by neck," Joker corrected. "Reaching Shepard isn't the problem. Her comm. isn't even on. She's gone completely dark."

"Did she tell you the coordinates to the location she'd been headed to?" He knew the answer to that question before even asking it. Thane needed to hear Joker say it.

Shaking his head the human replied exactly how Thane had expected him to. "If she had, we'd be extracting her happy ass out of there right now."

"There has to be something more that you can do," Garrus demanded. He glanced at Thane before adding, "Something we can do."

"Mr. Moreau and I are doing everything we can." EDI assured them. In a more stern, almost motherly tone, she instructed, "The moment the situation has changed, we will alert you. You can help by giving Jeff space to perform his job at optimal capacity."

"Right," the turian was not happy to relent but understood that he wouldn't do any good from the cockpit. He turned on his heel and left Jeff to his job. Thane followed close behind, uncomfortable by the helplessness beginning to bud inside him. From beside him Garrus grumbled, "I told you that I had a bad feeling about this, Thane. She should have never left without backup."

"She's fine, Garrus." Meaningless assurances fell on deaf ears. The words meant as little to him as they meant to the turian. Knowing that Anya was alone, and in danger, was going to drive him mad, but he needed to keep calm. The crew needed to maintain faith in the fact that Shepard could handle herself and would return to them shortly. "Whatever is going on, she can handle it."

"You better be right."

Gods, he hoped he was right. If he wasn't . . . Thane didn't know what he was going to do.

* * *

The next day and the day after held much of the same ever growing tension. Without Shepard present to maintain peace, nerves were becoming more and more frayed. Anya was the glue that held them all together. She was the one that made them more than crewmates, made them family. Missing, she was a reminder that none of them had done enough to keep her safe. Her absence made them all reflect on the knowledge that, should the worst come to effect, it would be their faults for not insisting in accompanying her.

Thane had grown more and more restless. He paced in the loft, the elevator, the mess hall, Life Support, the main battery; everywhere he went he ended up wearing a track into the flooring. When addressing his crew-mates it was always with assurances that Shepard was fine, that she would be returning soon, there was nothing to worry about. Lies meant to uplift spirits, his words had no effect, least of all on himself. In-between pacing holes into the floors he lingered around the cockpit, loitering beside Joker in anticipation of his Siha finally checking in with the pilot. It was where he was headed now.

Miranda was leaning over Joker's chair, reading the monitors with a disconcerted expression. She didn't acknowledge Thane as he joined them, standing silently to the side as he watched their interaction. Her voice was uncertain, worried, as her stare moved from the screens to the windows beyond. He noticed it then, the blue spec that was the mass relay and the smaller spec that was slowly approaching it.

Stupefaction constricted his chest. That was an asteroid, propelling straight for the only way out of the system. Should the big space rock make contact with the mass relay the Normandy would be stuck, not only that but the explosion could annihilate the system all together. Why would anyone want to destroy a mass relay?

Realization struck Thane like a well-placed punch to the chest. Hackett had sent Anya out to investigate a possible Reaper related artifact. If she was manning that asteroid to make contact with the mass relay, it meant that the relay was the gateway for an attack the galaxy was far from ready to face.

Taking a step towards the window Thane muttered, "Siha."

Miranda noticed the expression on Thane's features the same time that Joker demanded some room to do his damn job. Brow rising she wondered, "What is it, Thane? What do you know?"

Shaking his head he explained, "The Commander is on that asteroid." He did not sound as certain as he felt. Thane knew she was on that rock. He just could not bring himself to believe it. What had happened in the last two days? What had she gone through? Destroying a mass relay was drastic, last resort behavior. What was happening with his warrior angel?

"How do you know?" she demanded. The Cerberus agent worked with facts. Nothing less.

Unfortunately Thane did not have facts. He had a hunch. "I have a feeling," he admitted begrudgingly. Miranda would have to trust his feelings. They either saved the Commander or they left her behind to save themselves. He would not be responsible for abandoning her.

"—der Shepard to Normandy. Normandy do you read? Let me hear that sexy voice of yours, Joker." Anya's voice was like the sound of a break in the continuous storms of Kajhe. There was static and interference but she had finally made contact. They finally found her. Thane thanked every god and goddess he knew.

Joker fiddled with the controls, "Shit, Commander, yeah we read you." His brows furrowed a second later, his hands moving more manically. "Commander? Damnit!" They lost comm.'s again, an interference with the link severing their precious contact with the beloved Commander. EDI scanned for Shepard locating her exact location on the asteroid before informing them of their dwindling time frame to safely evacuate the star system.

"Shit, shit, shit," Joker maneuvered the ship, "We're inbound for pick up. How's your distance jumping, Commander? "

"Better than yours," her voice replied. It was the last words exchanged before Joker brought the Normandy close enough to the asteroid to rescue Shepard while avoiding a collision. Nearly the entire crew assembled in the CIC, watching with wide eyes.

No one dared to breathe, not even as EDI announced that Shepard was aboard. They had the Commander but were far from clear of the danger. Shepard burst from the airlock in a frenzy. She trampled over the small horde of people collecting around the cockpit. Trusting Joker to get them all out with haste, she shoved bodies aside as she sprinted towards the galaxy map.

Thane watched his warrior angel as she gawked at the display of the known worlds, her face hidden behind the bulk of her helmet. There was a strain to her stance, a weight that had not been there when she left.

The Normandy vaulted from the mass relay, propelled safely to the next before the asteroid obliterated everything. If the ship had been piloted by anyone else they would have all been dead. Of that Thane had no doubt. He was still watching the Commander as the crew voiced their relief. She slumped down, whether with her own relief or with grief he could not tell.

After a few breaths, she straightened her back and thanked Joker, "For getting my sorry ass off of that damned rock, I owe you a lifetime supply of drinks."

"And a new pair of pants, Commander," Joker teased, though the tension of her unexplained disappearance and dramatic return, still lingered throughout the ship. "You're going to have to explain to me why that damned rock was on a crash course with a mass relay."

Anya's gaze passed over her crew, acknowledging that they all shared the same questioning look. With a sigh she assured them, "Later." Turning, she paced the short distance to the lift and pressed the button that would summon it. Without looking over her shoulder she muttered, "Right now I need a stiff drink," before stepping into the yawning elevator.

Joker glanced to where Thane stood, still lingering by the cockpit, before sighing, "Whatever happened down there, it must have been rough."

"Yeah," Garrus slowly agreed. His steel blue stare also landed on Thane. Mandibles clicking he supplied, "She probably shouldn't be alone."

Thane could take a hint. Both of Anya's friends wanted him to go to her, to reassure her and be there for her. Thane wanted to do exactly that.

He agreed with a nod. Thane followed his Siha's path to the elevator. The ascent was slow going, giving him a chance to consider what he could possibly say to her. He had not the slightest idea what she had faced, what she had been through. His sympathy would have been forged out of assumptions and inferences. It was not enough. She needed more than that. He needed to offer her more. But what? Thane had not found an answer by the time the elevator reached its destination and spit him out.

The sound of falling water filled the cabin as the door opened to his arrival. Thane took a few unsure steps inside before finding the bathroom door ajar, clouds of hot steam billowing free into the cool loft air.

"Shepard," he risked glancing inside.

To both his relief and disappointment Anya was just barely dressed. A tank top clung to her, soaked through from the scalding shower water. Siha's typically softly tanned skin was reddened from the heat.

Her face was burrowed deep into the nook of her arm. Shoulders jumped as she rocked from side to side. The blood red of her hair slithered down her arms, falling like from a fresh wound. At the sound of his voice, she glanced up at him, the whites of her eyes as red as her skin. Though the water washed away the tears, the sorrow in her expression was evidence enough that she was far from okay.

Barely audible above the blare of the spraying shower, she whispered, "Thane," before a fresh wave of tears wracked her body.

He stood frozen at the sight of her. His goddess had been hurt. Her cheek was bruised, a single discoloration among a canvas of many. Scattered across the expanse of her body were angry blotches of previously inflicted injury. Someone had dared to hurt his warrior angel. Whether in this life or the next, Thane would make them pay.

Without word or thought Thane joined her. He stepped into the fire of falling water, ignoring the scalding temperature as he settled down beside her. His body turned to instinct. Every atom of his being called to her. His limbs reached for her of their own accord, and his need to hold her was incitement enough to proceed.

Thane scooped her into his arms and pressed her tightly into an embrace. Purpose possessed him. In that moment he lived for only one reason. Anya was broken, shards of her shattered soul strewn about in the aftermath of whatever she had faced alone. He would help her collect the pieces. He had promised her his arm those many weeks ago. But now she needed more than his arm. She needed his strength.

Whatever she needed from him, it was hers for the taking. He rocked her back and forth, hugging her to his chest as he tried to carry her through her wordless misery.

Anya's cries were soft whimpers as she clung to him as if for dear life. She buried her face into his neck, her arms wound securely around him. Rubbing her back, Thane murmured softly, words spoken too lowly for her translator to register. Words meant to mend her tattered soul. For the moment she was disconnected and he would help her find herself once again.

Hands balling into fists at his back Anya croaked, "I killed them, Thane." Impossibly, her grip around him tightened. Her entire body heaved with grief. Her cries were soundless, a pitch-less sorrow that could shatter the thickest of glass. "An entire system . . . dead, because of me."

"No." He would not let her shoulder that kind of blame. Hand cupping her cheek, Thane gently forced her to meet his gaze.

His heart broke at the desolation found in those gloriously green irises. He would have given anything to take this pain from her. Thane would have done anything to have gone in her place. Shepard was a proud woman, strong, brave, and moral. To see her so broken, so hopeless, he could not bear it.

Gazing deeply into her eyes, he insisted, "I know you, Siha. You would have done anything you could to save as many lives as possible. This was an unfortunate catastrophe. But it was not your fault."

A humorless chuckle sounded from her. "Wasn't it you that once said, 'we must carry the weight of our decisions'?" Ripping her face from his hands she grumbled, "This one is all on me."

"What other choice did you have?" He would not be turned away so easily. She could not push him from her. Even if her arms were still tightly woven around him, Anya was trying to put up a wall. And Thane would not allow that. Her pain was his. Her despair was his. And he would not allow her to try and sever that. "Tell me, Siha, because if there had been another choice you would have made it."

"Such confidence you have in me." Her eyes found his again. There was an anger there that was not meant for him but for herself. He was an outlet. She needed to unleash this riptide of emotion, and Thane was willing to brunt the assault of her rage.

"I knew something was up." The admission was spit out, disdain in every word. She hated herself, hated what she had allowed to happen. "Kenson was indoctrinated the entire time. I had a feeling but I ignored it because she was an old friend of Hackett's. The Alpha Relay was the Reapers back door in. She knew the Reapers were coming.

"It was why she was based on an asteroid in the first place. That old friend had an entire goddamn army attack me, kept me asleep for two whole days, then sabotaged all my attempts to alert the Batarians that their system was about to be wiped off the fucking map." She shook her head. Her entire body vibrated with anger. "Nothing I did was enough. If I had just been a little faster. If I had woken up sooner . . . I could have saved them, Thane. I should have found a way to save them."

"But you couldn't," he completed, "Because there was no way." He moved until he was in her line of sight, until she was forced to meet and hold his gaze. "Siha, the lives lost today pale in comparison to how many could have been lost if the Alpha Relay hadn't been destroyed."

He grabbed her face with both hands when she tried to look away again. Pressing his forehead to hers he assured her, "Sometimes the right decision feels like the wrong one. You made the right call, and deep down I know you must realize it."

She was silent for a moment, sniveling the last of her tears. After a few seconds passed, she found his gaze again. Sadness still lingered in the greens of her eyes. And Thane knew that it would dwell there for some time yet. But she was beginning to mend, to pull herself together. Her disconnection had been short-lived, and for that Thane was eternally grateful.

Searching his face she admitted, "You're right, I know you're right; but it still hurts." Anya gestured to her chest, showing him where the seed of her despair was instigating.

Her heart was broken for all the batarian lives lost, and that was good. It was good that the loss of life affected her so deeply. It was good that she did not make sacrifices with slapdash disregard for the outcome. It was evidence that she was a superlative leader, that she was bravura of a woman. Commander Anya Shepard had no equal and Thane was awestruck but the very sight of her.

Unable to help himself, Thane leaned forward. His soul was reaching out to hers, seeking their unification. As he inched ever closer to those plush reddened lips he whispered, "Let me take away some of your pain."

His lips touched hers then, a gentle flutter at first. Her skin was soft. He had felt her hands, caressed her face enough times to know that. But her lips . . . those plump perfect lips, they were divine. He could not control himself. She was too enticing. He had restrained himself too long already. He pushed his lips against hers, impatiently claiming her mouth in demonstration of how he intended to claim the rest of her. Shepard yelped with surprise before humming her approval. It was all he needed.

Thane reclaimed his feet, carrying Anya up with him. She did not giggle at being hoisted up like a bride. She did not protest being handled like a flower. She simply maintained the contact of their lips, memorizing the taste of him, the feel of the depth of his feelings for her. Thane left the cloudy bathroom, the shower still running, and made his way down the few steps to her bed.

They were dripping, soaking wet. The loft air was cold in comparison to the steamed heat of the shower. The hairs on Shepard's arms stood on end, and Thane rubbed his hands curiously over her body. She was soft, delicate, inviting. Thane's fingers found the hem of her drenched tank top.

Slowly he began to peel it off of her flesh. Like a curtain, the sodden fabric revealed a masterpiece. Her skin was naturally tanned, resembling the heavily creamed coffee she so adored. His fingers explored the surface of her skin. The feel of her silk flesh against his scales was intoxicating. Thane wanted to learn every arch and plane of her body. He wanted to know how each dip and climb made her lips part, if they made her moan with appreciation.

Her muscles were hard, steel encased by velvet. The scars on the surface of her skin did not mar her beauty, only enhanced it. She was a warrior angel. She was a goddess. And Thane needed to pay her the tribute that she deserved.

Reluctantly parting his gaze from the lure of her golden skin, he found her dilated eyes. Unable to speak past a whisper he voiced his reverence. "You are so beautiful."

"Thane," she rasped. Her voice was hoarse, thick with her own desire for him. It was evident in her every movement, in the way she groaned and arched her body to meet each of his touches. Her smell was in his nose, in his ill-functioning lungs, making his mouth water.

Tugging him closer to her body, she begged, "Please."

His goddess had succumbed to pleading. Returning his attention to learning her body, Thane wondered how long it would take for his Siha to stop begging and start demanding. There was so much to learn, so many places to explore, so much time to make up for. He wanted to savor her, to patiently learn which touches made her voice her approval, which places were too pleasurable for her to make a sound at all.

Anya needed him to erase her pain, to dull her ache. Drawing out her anticipation was not the remedy. Tonight her pleas would be met with satisfaction. Later he would discover how long it took for a plea to become an order. He would relish the experience.

* * *

Thane coughed as he was spit back into the present. His eyes burned as tears stabbed their way to freedom. Already a compilation of his sadness was pooling beneath him. His heart ached, longing for the familiar touch of a Siha that thought him lost. Where was Anya?

Where was his love? A surge of rage had him punch the ground before a deep breath let him reclaim his usual composure. He had woken to a world of questions with no answers.

Pushing himself back onto his feet, Thane continued down his interrupted path. He needed to board a shuttle and find out where he was. Once that one question, at least, was answered he could carry on to the next. Slowly he would discover what had become of the galaxy he had thought himself dead to. Then he would find his goddess and his son, and he would give them all the time he had thought stolen from him.


	7. Chapter Six

It was over. It was finally over. Garrus watched in speechless amazement as the colossal synthetics they had been fighting for months starting dropping lifelessly around them. Emotion overtook him. He didn't know whether to fall to his knees and weep or jump up and roar in exhilaration. After everything, after all the friends he watched die, all the sacrifices he had made and supported, it was over.

There was a moment of silence, wordless realization. The soldiers stood as still as death, watching as the Reapers collapsed, lifeless, dead. They were dead, the war was won. They had won. Apprehension assaulted them all at once. Together they howled in victory. Their cries shot heavenward, reaching the ears of whichever gods they praised. The galaxy had stood together. The races had fought and died side by side. They had endured the worst kind of hell, a war waged and forgotten throughout millennia, and they had won.

Garrus's throat ached from the intensity of his bellow. Before, he hadn't dared hope that he would survive this, that he would get a chance to find happiness with the quarian he just realized he loved. But now the war was won, the fighting was over; the future was his for the taking. And they all had Shepard to thank for that.

Eyes still pointed upward he searched for where he knew the Citadel sat. His friend was up there. The savior of the galaxy. They had fought and searched all across the expanse of accessible space in search for the Catalyst. It had been right before their eyes the entire time. Later he would laugh.

As the last of his cries escaped his lungs Garrus was brought to his knees. A new war initiated inside of him. Emotions of every which kind struck him down, each more powerful than the last. All he could do was stare up at the sky as each played to their end.

After uncounted minutes of struggling to reclaim his equanimity Garrus was pulled onto his feet and wrapped up in a brotherly embrace. James Vega squeezed him to the breaking point. "Scars," his voice was tight with an emotion that the entire galaxy was feeling. "It's over."

"Yeah," Garrus coughed out a laugh. If he could move his arms he would have hugged the human back. It would have been awkward and embarrassing, but living past the end of the world made people do regrettable things. "You finally got yourself some worthwhile stories to tell, eh Jimmy?"

Vega released him with a laugh. His eyes were slick with sentiment. "All of them better than yours, Scars."

"And neither of ours come close to Shepard's stories."

At the mention of Shepard the Lieutenant's expression fell. His eyes darted to the sky. Without looking at Garrus he asked, "Did you see that explosion? The one that killed the Reapers?"

Of course he had seen it. They had all seen it. That wondrous blast of omnipotent light had ended and won the war for them all. Not understanding the sudden change in Vega's demeanor he answered, "The whole galaxy saw the explosion, Jim."

"Shepard set it off," James was hardly speaking to him, appearing to be mumbling to himself instead. There was an expression that Garrus recognized as grief in his Latin human features. "She'd have to be pretty damn close to the explosion to do that."

"Too close," he was finally starting to understand what Vega was getting at. The Crucible had let out a powerful burst of Reaper destroying firepower. What collateral damage could it have done? Mandibles flapping, another emotion began to stir inside of him. Panic. "You don't think . . . you're not implying . . ." He couldn't even bring himself to finish. There was absolutely no way that what Vega was saying had any substance.

Still not meeting his gaze, James muttered, "We have to get onto the Citadel."

"Right," he couldn't argue with that, if only to prove to the human and to himself that Shepard was fine. She would be waiting there for them, casually leaning against a bulkhead with that smirk of hers, wondering what took them so long; the party was already over. There was just one problem. In the aftermath of the war they were left in chaos. The shaft of blue light that had brought them to London was a wreckage, destroyed alongside the Reapers. They needed to find an authority that would help them get onto the Citadel.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"Click our heels together?" James suggested with a shrug. When it was evident that Garrus had absolutely no idea what the human was talking about, he sighed and shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Right," he drawled out again.

His gaze swept over the decimated city around them. The soldiers, injured but alive, were starting to come together in congratulations. The confusion would last for only a little while. Soon someone would come forward to give them all direction. And they needed to be there to volunteer to return to the Citadel and take stock of the damage. If they backtracked all the way to where Anderson's base camp had been they might be able to find someone to take charge. Or maybe that person needed to be him.

"Follow me," Garrus grumbled as he started towards a group of Alliance soldiers. The men noticed him as he joined their circle and recognized him a second later. After an exchange of praise, congratulations, and salutes the turian inquired, "Who is your commanding officer?"

One of the men looked to his feet, a sadness in his eyes. "Dead, Sir, saved my life."

Garrus acknowledged the man's sacrifice, and offered condolences with a nod. Onto his next question, "Who does that leave in charge?"

"Major Coats, Sir." The men pointed them in Coats's direction. Garrus was glad to know the man that came with the name. He was a good soldier, a good man, if he couldn't help them he would at least show them to someone who could.

The Major was located in a building serving a medical facility. Cries of pain, happiness, sorrow, and disbelief leaked through the cracks and broken windows. Curtains were up, separating the patients, as doctors frantically tended to each of the wounded. They found Coats somewhere near the back of the building, speaking to an asari doctor in regards to a krogan laying unconscious on a blood soaked cot.

" – redundant nervous system. He should be fine. Just give him a few hours of rest and he'll be back onto his feet in no time." The doctor gave Coats a reassuring pat on the shoulder before moving onto her next patient.

"Is that Grunt?" James asked, his voice alight with disbelief.

With a chuckle Garrus confirmed the question. "Spirits, that krogan does not know how to die."

"No," Major Coats agreed with a nod. Glancing back to where Grunt was sleeping he finished, "no he doesn't. The lizard took an entire platoon of husks to the face and just laughed them off." Returning his attention to the turian and human before him, a smirk formed on his lips. "Congratulations, boys, you just survived all nine circles of hell." After giving them both a firm hand shake he wondered, "What can I do for you men?"

"We need to get onto the Citadel ASAP. Someone needs to account for all possible damage."

"Someone is," The Major informed them. Waving for them to follow him out of the crumbling medical crevice they made their way outside. With a quick glance over his shoulder to where Garrus was following him, Coats continued with his explanation. "The Council has made contact. For the most part the Citadel is intact, and a majority of the population survived. There's a section though that was blown to bloody pieces. It was where that blast shot out from, the barrel of the gun if you will."

Garrus sighed with relief. That was good. The Citadel was still in one piece. The lives there were mostly accounted for. It was something to celebrate. They still needed to find a way onto the space station. "That's good to hear, Major." Giving James a sidelong glance he said, "But Commander Shepard set off that explosion. We need to find her."

Major Coats nodded his understanding. They kept walking through groups of celebrating soldiers, past fiery Mako's, around fallen buildings until they were approaching a tent that was the designated comm station. Turning to face his pursuers he stated, "A search party is being put together as we speak. You both are free to join them if you wish. Unfortunately I will not be accompanying you. There's an entire bloody planet to rebuild."

"Duty calls," Garrus voiced his sympathy. Turning to James, he waited for the Lieutenant to gesture his agreement before they set out for the shuttle that would take them to the Citadel.

As they started towards the landing zone Coats shouted after them, "If you see Anderson tell him that I'm naming my first child after him."

"Tell him yourself," Garrus replied with a laugh. He and James climbed onto the shuttle along with a handful of other people, a few from each race eager yet reluctant to see what was awaiting them on the Citadel.

It was a short trip and they were directed to land right in the middle of ground zero. The shuttle door opened to reveal an expanse of devastation. It was a sight no worse than what could be found on the entire planet below. Maybe later Garrus would laugh at the fact that even amidst the war of the ages the Citadel made it out mostly unscathed. Now though, now he had a friend to find somewhere in all this rubble.

"Deus," James muttered from beside them. "I don't think –"

"We'll find her, Jimmy." They had to find her. Garrus had lost too many friends in this damned war. He refused to count Shepard among them. Looking over his shoulder to where the Lieutenant stared wide eyed at the enormity of the destruction, Garrus said, "Come on," and joined the rest of the search party.

He didn't know what he had been expecting while aboard the shuttle to the Citadel. Maybe that as soon as he disembarked he'd come across Shepard, comfortably propped up on a fallen over wall, inquiring if they intended to help her or if she was going to fix the whole goddamn Citadel herself. Whatever his expectations had been, they hadn't been met. The search party had rummaged around the rubble for hours.

There were plenty of bodies, dead souls that were shot up into the Citadel through the blue beam. They sifted through the corpses for just as many hours. The more time that passed, the worse Garrus felt. The destruction around them was immense. If Shepard had survived the explosion she would have been in bad shape. She would need immediate medical assistance. While they were sorting through those who couldn't be saved, Shepard might be dying. If she wasn't dead already.

More hours passed, a conversation-less passage of time as Garrus and James became more and more desperate to find their Commander and friend. When the search party coordinator forced them to take a break and rehydrate, it was with much protest from the two Normandy soldiers. They didn't want to stop the search until they had found who they were looking for.

Disappointment was met with devastation. At the end of the day they hadn't found Shepard. They had found another friend. Anderson's body was pulled out of the rubble. A gunshot wound to the gut among other both pre and postmortem injuries. James's tears had fallen openly at the sight of the Admiral being hefted out to where the rest of the bodies were organized.

Not too far from where they had uncovered Anderson someone had stumbled upon the Illusive Man. Garrus had never met the human, had only seen his image before Shepard had blown the Collector ship to pieces. The man had changed in that time, obviously indoctrinated by the Reapers, just as Saren had been. His cracked skin was giving way to synthetic wiring. He had a gunshot wound on the side of his head, an apparent suicide. For a moment Garrus wondered how many bad guys the woman could talk into killing themselves.

It was how their day had concluded. The Council had gifted them, and many other soldiers, with temporary apartments overlooking the presidium. Garrus entered the fully furnished home that wasn't his and set out to find a shower. He needed to get out of his filthy armor. From fringe to feet he was caked in a grime he doubted that a lifetime of bathing could cleanse. He would stink until the end of his days.

Bathed and in fresh clothing, Garrus stepped into the kitchen to find a familiar face waiting for him at the dining room table.

"Kasumi," the surprise in his voice masked the joy he felt to see her. Though, he shouldn't have been surprised, the crafty little human could sneak her way anywhere. This apartment would have been nothing for her to break into.

"In the flesh," she slid off the table and strode to where he stood. Wrapping her arms around his neck she breathed, "It's good to see you alive, Gare-Bear."

"You too," he released her from his embrace and took a step back. Shepard called him Gare-Bear when she was feeling especially mischievous. Kasumi adopted the pet name to use in casual conversation. Had she been anyone else he would have asked her to stop. Turning towards the refrigerator, Garrus started his search for food. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"Nah, I don't think these pre-furnished digs even come with stocked refrigerators." Throwing herself up onto the countertop beside him she said, "I heard that you found Admiral Anderson today."

"Yeah." Kasumi was right. There was nothing in the refrigerator or in the cabinets. It was a shame, too, because Garrus was starving. Returning his attention to the dainty human sitting cross legged on the counter-top he continued, "The man died a damned hero."

The thief just nodded in response. "You knew him well?"

"No," he shook his head. "Shepard was his XO on the SR1. The ship was already hers by the time she recruited me. I've met him on a few separate occasions. He was a good man and a great soldier. I just wish he could have lived long enough to see the war won."

Kasumi breathed out a somber sigh before the usual smirk could return to her lips. Swiftly changing the subject she said, "A few other friends of ours are on the Citadel. How about we get together for drinks?"

He didn't need to stop and consider for long. The apartment wasn't his, there was no food to be found, and he was eager to find out which of his friends he could count among the living. "Sounds good, I could really use a stiff drink right about now."

"I bet." Kasumi leaped off of the counter and landed gracefully on her feat. Before they made their way to the door she grabbed him by the arm and looked into his tired eyes. "We'll find her," her tone had such conviction he almost felt guilty for having his reservations. "Shep's tough. She won't go down without a fight."

"You're right." He needed to continue believing that. It was too soon for him to give up on his friend. "We'll find her."

They made their way to some dive bar to meet up with the old friends. Garrus was pleased to learn that Jacob, Miranda, Dr. Michel, and Kolyat were all safe and alive. When James arrived introductions were made and they all headed to Purgatory for some much needed drinking. Surprisingly, Aria T'Loak was more than accommodating to the veterans. Their drinks were paid for and she had a VIP section reserved for them. She may have hated her stay on the Citadel, but her sway on the space station had few limitations.

Garrus felt a little guilty enjoying the reunion. Shepard should have been there. It should have been her dancing on the bar, making a fool of herself. He needed to be out there. Searching for his friend so that he could buy her that drink he'd promised her. By the half-hearted laughs and weary eyes it was easy to discern that he wasn't the only one feeling that way.

They called it a night early. The next morning they would all be on the search team. They needed to find Shepard. With each passing hour her life expectancy was dramatically dropping.

The night had been a sleepless one. Until he found Shepard, dead or alive, he knew he would be having many restless nights. Vega was standing outside his door when he pulled it open. Garrus almost ran into him head first as he exited his temporary living arrangements.

"Vega," Garrus exhaled his surprise and shook his head as he locked the door behind him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Didn't," he shrugged offhandedly as they headed for the rapid transit terminal. "Couldn't. We're going to find her today, Garrus. I can feel it."

Garrus could only hope. If they didn't find her alive today, he didn't know if finding her alive was going to be an option for much longer. Not giving voice to his pessimistic thoughts he agreed, "We damn well better. I'm getting tired of babysitting you."

"Don't act like you don't love it, Scars."

Love was a strong word. But on some level it was true. Garrus had formed a kind of kinship with Lieutenant Vega. The man was young and hard-headed. But he was also fiercely loyal and had a good heart. Tease him if he would, but Garrus cared for the human as he would a brother. Babysitting Jimmy wasn't the worst task in the entirety of the galaxy.

They met up with the others at the volunteer search party shuttle bay. It was a quiet ride over to ground zero. Suspense in finding Shepard made each and every one of them relapse to their natural introverted deportment. Garrus fidgeted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position that would allow him to lean back and also accommodate his fringe. With a sigh he gave up, bent forward and steepled his talons.

Anxiety was bubbling inside of him, had been since they discovered Shepard was MIA. Search and rescue teams had been working around the clock to find survivors and recover bodies. No one had found Shepard. He wondered if they would. Maybe the explosion had catapulted her straight out into space. Spaced again, like dying that way once wasn't enough. Shaking the morose thoughts from his mind he tried to catch some of James' gut-born optimism. Today was the day. It had to be the day.

They stepped off of the shuttle and immediately set out to work, separating into the different teams where their skills would be better utilized. In silence Garrus made his way into the wreckage yet again.

Hours passed. His arms were starting to ache from repeatedly rearranging mountains of rubble. His eyes were getting sore from seeing the same ashy grey color, blackened by smoke or reddened by blood. When the coordinator appeared, instructing him to take a water break, Garrus scared her off with a glare. Today there would be no breaks. His mind unwittingly wandered to the thought that Shepard might already be dead, though it wasn't of his own concurrence. Garrus figured that he was just preparing himself emotionally should the worst come into effect.

Hours had dragged by. The day was gone. And still they had found nothing. He had nothing to show for himself. Not Shepard, not even a clue as to where she would be. He had failed her, again. He had failed her the first time she died by not searching for her. And he failed again this time by not finding her.

Garrus glared up at the destroyed structure. His anger in himself and in the universe reddened his vision. He owed everything to Shepard, everything he was, everything he could ever be. It was because she had taken him as a friend and as a brother.

A howl shot through him, unable to be contained any longer. Rage possessed him body and mind. Without thought he lifted a hunk of debris and threw it, followed by another, then another. His roars were disturbing the somber quiet that claimed the ruins. Members of the search party made moves to come to him but were stopped by Vega, who held up a hand in gesture to let him have this moment.

Garrus fell to his knees. Hunched over he breathed heavily as he tried to reclaim his body from the fury that had overtaken him. After several moments passed he dared to reopen his eyes. Rubbing the plates of his brow he exhaled the last of his ire. Anger would not help him. As his gaze drifted over his dark surroundings something caught his notice.

Back straightening to attention he tilted his head as he tried to catch a better look. Some distance away, in a heap of wreckage, was a dusted over red stripe. Struggling onto his feet Garrus mumbled, "Vega." As he hesitantly paced closer he recognized the shoulder guard, the scuffed and charred pieces of armor that blended almost perfectly with the ruined environment. "Vega!" he shouted as his steps turned into a sprint. "Get help!"

Garrus fell to his knees and started digging through the rubble. He tossed aside heaps of detritus, immediately identifying the N7 logo etched into a breastplate."Shepard," talons balling into tight fists, Garrus fought the urge to pull her from the wreckage, knowing that if he moved her himself he would cause more harm than good. He'd found her. He'd finally found her. Alive? He couldn't feel her breathing, but she had to be alive. He didn't find her now only to lose her to death. Spirits, she had to be alive.

The medical team was at his side in seconds, gently relieving him of his commander. Someone scanned her vitals and announced that she was alive, if just barely. Barely didn't matter. Alive mattered. Setting her body onto a stretcher they hurried to the emergency shuttle, Garrus and the others hot on their heels. Dr. Michel waved the medics on board then turned to face Shepard's team. They stood, dancing with anxiety. The shuttle needed to leave immediately if Shepard had any hope of surviving the transport.

"I can only bring two of you."

"I'm going." There wasn't going to be a debate. Garrus was going, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Miranda stepped toward the shuttle explaining, "I rebuilt the Commander from the ground up. I damn well better go," as she climbed aboard the vessel.

"Everyone else will have to meet us there." The door shut behind her as Dr. Michel entered the emergency shuttle. She knelt beside the Commander and, with deft and gentle fingers, began to remove Shepard's helmet. It had protected her from the worst of the explosion, though some cuts and bruises still marred the pale and bloody canvas of her face. Shepard was normally a few shades lighter than Vega. Pale as death was not a color that Garrus was keen on seeing on her.

As Dr. Michel started peeling off the layers of armor a gasp vacuumed into Shepard's lungs. Her eyes ripped open, green irises frantically searching her surroundings. There was a look of horror in the Commander's expression, a look of a woman who thought herself awoken in a hell she had assumed she'd destroyed. She was panicking.

Garrus moved into her line of sight. Gingerly taking one of her hands into his talons he assured her, "You did it, Shepard. You killed the Reapers. We won." Glancing up to meet Miranda's concerned gaze for a moment he added, "We're going to fix you up, Shepard. You're going to spend every last royalty this war has won you."

"Heart rate is accelerated," one of the medics alerted them, "will need sedatives to stabilize patient."

The panic in her wide eyes multiplied. Her cracked and bloodied lips parted and a dry breath exhaled without sound. Her horrified expression was heart shattering. Why was she so afraid? The Reapers were dead. She was safe. Swallowing past her dry throat, she tried again. Garrus leaned closer so that his translator would catch the whispered words.

"Let me die," she breathed out, eyes closing, maybe forever.

"We're losing her," a salarian doctor pushed Garrus aside and took his place.

Let her die? Just like that, just turn his gaze and let her die. She wanted him, her closest friend, to let her sleep to never reawaken. Garrus blinked, shocked into place by her outrageous request.

The medic team worked with Miranda, frenzied as they tried to stabilize the Commander. Shepard almost got her wish. She died twice on the way to Huerta and once more upon arrival. Each time they had brought her back, determined to keep her among the living, where she belonged. They wouldn't let her die. How could she ask that of him?

Settling down into the uncomfortable seats that lined the waiting room, the turian buried his face in his hands and breathed. The labor spent digging through the rubble in search of his friend had been an emotionally taxing experience. Even it hadn't reached the feet of the sentimental exhaustion he was feeling now.

He'd been under the impression that Shepard was unhappy for some time now; but it had never been outright suicidal. Her distant and morose behavior gave him pause only once before. And at the time he had dismissed it as the effects of the war taking its toll. He should have been paying closer attention.

* * *

"My shields are down!" shouted Shepard between gasps of breath.

With a gruff exhale Garrus glared over to where she had been forced into cover. Of course her shields were down. The woman was pushing it, even for her. From the beginning she had always had a battle lust that could rival a krogan. She dove headfirst into battle grinning and laughing as she dragged them to victory. That was just how Shepard was wired. But something was different now.

She didn't return his banter with her typical mirth. She was sardonic, curt, and she joked without laughter. She no longer gave him that predatory simper before slipping under her tactical cloak. When she sniped, it was with a cruelty that hadn't been there before; deaths drawn out and suffering prolonged, especially if her targets were Cerberus.

To say that she was acting strangely would have been a vast understatement. The angry and bitter woman that wore the Commander's skin was not the Shepard he had served with for over three years. He didn't know the woman that now led them thoughtlessly into battle.

"Of course your shields are down." His tone was patronizing. He couldn't help it. If she was going to act like a dull-witted recruit he was going to treat her like one. "You're an infiltrator, Shepard, not a Commando."

Shepard never led them into battle head on. It wasn't her style, not her forte. She set her heavy hitter at point then she and Garrus, or whoever else she brought along, would flank their targets. They thinned out their opponents that way, forced them into a tight circle. It was "Shooting fish in a barrel." Now she was going toe to toe with forces she had to be smarter than, not stronger than. This could have been an easy fight. They could have already been done with this. But now they were deadlocked with Reaper forces that they should never have faced head on.

Shepard didn't respond. Instead she disappeared behind her tactical cloak. Shaking his head, Garrus did his best to keep the attention on him and James. The last thing he needed was for Shepard to get shot because of her own bad call. When she reappeared it was behind a Marauder, her pistol at the back of his head.

Before Garrus could blink the Reaper was missing a face and falling lifelessly at Shepard's feet. She wouldn't be able to use her tactical cloak again for at least twelve seconds. She was standing in the middle of a handful of Marauders and Cannibals with no quick way out.

"What the hell is she thinking?" James shouted as he gave the commander cover fire.

Shaking his head again, Garrus moved forward, weaving his way closer to where Shepard was engaged in close range combat. Answering James' question he yelled, "She's not," before sniping a Cannibal in the top right eye. Another took its place only to also be shot down.

Her tactical cloak was working by now, but Shepard hadn't activated it yet. She was dancing around gunfire, running to and from cover as she recklessly occupied her opponents in a close range firefight. Garrus growled in frustration. He had had enough of her behavior. Her grace and speed would help her for only so long. She was too close to her adversaries. Her shields were weakened. A shot at that proximity would blow right through them, and might actually kill her.

James was beside Garrus in a second, grumbling, "She's fucking crazy," before rolling into cover a little closer and blowing their enemy to bits.

Insane was more like it. She was, what was the human saying, losing her marbles? After a few more tense, gun-fire filled minutes the battle was over. Shepard rejoined her team with a laugh, the forced one she used when she knew she had done something wrong.

"That was fun," she said as she slapped James on the shoulder. "Wasn't it Lieutenant?"

"If by fun you mean completely insane, then yeah. I guess it was fun."

"See?" her attention turned to Garrus, the one who was going to be the adult here and give her a much needed scolding. "James thought it was fun."

Vega shook his head, and Garrus's glare narrowed on his human leader. "It was not fun, Shepard. It was stupid and reckless. What's gotten into you?"

His stare was pulled up past her shoulder by a movement. He only half noticed her shrugging her shoulders as a Ravager crept around the corner, a laser already pointed at the woman standing in front of him. Just as he was about to shove the Commander out of the way, a shot rang out. His vision slowed down as the world sped up.

Shepard was thrown into his arms by the force of the impact. As his arms wrapped around her, James lifted his semi-automatic and repeatedly shot the Ravager in the optical lens, gunning the misshapen Rachni down until all that was left were a handful of Swarmers. Just like that it was over, again. That was the last of the Reaper forces that they'd have to deal with. At least for now.

Setting her down propped up against a thrown over pillar, Garrus kneeled beside Shepard. When he saw that the only injury she had sustained was a through and through in the shoulder, he let out a relieved sigh. Now he could yell at her without fearing that she wouldn't live to hear the end of it. She still wouldn't live to hear the end of it, but now she would have suffer his grievances for a longer span of time.

"Son of a bitch," She grumbled, bashing her helmet into the pillar to distract herself from the pain.

Lifting a brow plate Garrus assured her, "It's not that bad." When she glared at him he added. "You'll live. Now get your ass up, we're heading back to the Normandy."

"Yes Sir," Shepard griped as he pulled her back onto her feet. Her glare turned to James only long enough to see him shrug before it returned to Garrus. "And here I was under the impression that I was the Commander." They started towards the landing zone, Shepard dragging her ass, knowing the crap she'd catch from Chakwas for her carelessness.

"I was under that same impression," Garrus replied. Returning her glare with one of his own he rebuked, "I was also expecting you to act like one."

"Screw you Vakarian."

It was the last they spoke to each other as they stepped into the shuttle and returned to the Normandy. He had said enough for the moment. They needed to get her to Med Bay and get her patched up before he could let loose on her like he wanted to.

When the shuttle door opened, Shepard was the first one out, hoping to flee from Garrus and act the recluse for the rest of the evening. It was too bad for her that she was shit out of luck. As he stepped out the shuttle after her Cortez chirped, "Go easy on her, Garrus."

"And why would he do that, Esteban?" wondered Vega, wandering off of the shuttle ahead of the shuttle pilot. "You didn't see her out there." Shouting after Garrus, he exclaimed, "Let her have it, Scars. Set that woman straight."

"You don't know what's going on with her, James."

"Oh, and you do?"

"I have an idea."

Garrus didn't linger to hear the rest of it. Whatever they thought was going on with Shepard was just speculation until she cleared up the air and let someone in. She was his friend, his best friend. Garrus wanted to help her through what was troubling her. He wanted to be there for her when she needed him. But in order to do that she needed to talk to him.

The doors to Med Bay opened just as Shepard was saying, "It was nothing, Doc. Just patch me up and get me out of here."

"I would hardly call this nothing, Commander." Chakwas reproved as she helped Shepard out of her armor.

"It's not nothing," he commented, approaching the two human females. "Don't let her tell you otherwise."

"Not now, Garrus." Shepard was trying to dismiss him. But the half-hearted attempt was evidence enough that she didn't truly expect him to just go away.

"No, now is the perfect time." Karin set the Commander's armor aside and set out with her medical supplies to clean and care for the wound. Addressing Garrus without turning her gaze to him, she asked, "Care to tell me why you're returning the Commander to me in this unsightly condition."

"Not my fault, Chakwas." He raised his talons in self defense. "Shepard thought that she could face a dozen Marauders in a fist fight."

"And I did." Shepard censured, her expression darkened by her disapproval. "It wasn't the Marauders or Cannibals that did this to me."

"No, it wasn't," he agreed. "It was your slipshod and irresponsible attitude."

"Save it, Garrus."

"For when, Shepard?" Not meaning to raise his voice, he returned his tone to an acceptable decibel. "Save it for when you've walked into your last bullet? If we don't do this now you're going to keep dismissing me until it's too late."

"Don't exaggerate. It wasn't that bad and you know it."

"I know nothing of the sort." With an incredulous scoff he insisted, "You were reckless. You have been for weeks now. It's dangerous. Not only could you get yourself killed but you could get any one of your teammates killed too. Is that what you want, Shepard?" She didn't reply, only tensed her jaw and threw her gaze elsewhere.

Frustrated by her apparent apathy, he growled, "This isn't you. This has never been you. How hard do you have to push yourself before you realize that you're cutting it too close? Does one of us have to die before you pull your shit together?"

"No one is going to die, Garrus." Her reply was whispered, feeble.

Shaking his head again, he said, "Tell that to Mordin, to Legion."

"They weren't my fault," she roared, her fist punching the examination table she was seated on. Her daggered eyes stabbed into Garrus.

He hated that he had to be the one to have this conversation with her. He hated that he had to be the one call her out. If he survived this, Tali, Kaidan, and Liara were going to owe him big time.

"No they weren't," he agreed with her. It had been a low blow to bring them up, he knew it. But he needed to get her attention. He needed to make her see reason. "But we're losing a lot of friends to this war. Your actions shouldn't be the reason we lose any more."

"I think that's enough for now, Vakarian." Chakwas' tone was cautious. When she spoke to the Commander again it was in a gentle voice. "Luckily for you the injury is just an ugly one. The damage wasn't too bad. You should have full functionality of your arm, without pain or long term effects, in a few days. Can I trust you to keep that injured wing in a sling?"

She shook her head, a disingenuous smirk on her lips, "Probably not."

"Make that a definite yes and I'll let you leave without any invasive procedures."

"We'll see, Doc."

Sighing, the Doctor turned to Garrus. She nodded, giving him the go ahead, "I'll give you both a moment."

As Chakwas left the Med Bay, Shepard muttered, "Traitor."

With a breath Garrus crossed his arms over his chest. He had already said his part. What he needed was for Shepard to say hers. Something was terribly wrong with her and she was holding it in. That was why she was acting irresponsibly. That was why she was distancing herself from everyone. And Garrus needed to know how he could help, even if it was just by listening.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Oh no, they were not going to dance around this. "That was an easy assignment, Shepard. It shouldn't have turned out this way."

"It was a useless assignment," she grumbled. Garrus wasn't about to interrupt. She was going to give him exactly what he wanted. She was going to open up and it was going to be ugly, but it needed to be done.

"We're in the middle of a fucking war and everyone is sending me on bullshit assignments when there are better things that I could be doing. Just once I'd like to get someone's help without having to bend over backwards for them. Just once I'd like to not have to fix the whole goddamn galaxy's problems. I'm a soldier, not a babysitter. What do all these people want from me? Would they like me to wipe their collective asses the next time they all take a shit too? Maybe get them a nice warm glass of milk to wash down the cookies before I put them down for a nap?"

Knowing he shouldn't interrupt, he did so anyway. "They want you to help them because they don't know how to help themselves."

"How about they help me for a change?" She punched the table again. Her watery eyes finally leaked, a single tear running down her cheek. "You brought up Mordin and Legion before."

"I know." He shifted his feet. "I shouldn't have."

Ignoring his words she said, "But you forgot Thane. Thane died because of this war too. He died because I couldn't save him. And you and everyone else keep on like it never happened, like he never existed in the first place. I fucking loved him, Garrus. He was everything to me. He died, and no one acknowledges that at all. Not you, not Tali, not even Joker acknowledges the loss of him. You have no idea what it has been like for me. You can't begin to understand how waking up in the morning is a chore, because a galaxy without him isn't a galaxy worth saving."

She huffed, more of her tears falling. This is what he had wanted. He had wanted her to let it all out. Garrus should have prepared himself for this. How could he prepare himself for this level of raw anger and suffering?

"You want to know why I've been pushing it so hard lately?" He was hesitant to respond, and her rage doubled. "Well do you?"

Garrus nodded for her to go on.

"It's because I want to see how far I can push it before death finally comes for me." She said it with a sinister smile, a shine in her eye that was too dark for a face like hers. "I miss him so much. All I want is to be with Thane again. All I want is to be in his arms one more time. And as long as I'm alive that will never happen. So there it is." Digging the heels of her palms into her seeping eyes she croaked, "I just want all this bullshit to be over so that I can finally see the sea."

He didn't know what to say. That was a lot to take in. Shepard was a strong woman, and that strength was costing her. She needed this, needed to let it all out. Garrus strode to where she was seated and wrapped her up in a brotherly embrace.

She was right. He and the others had seemingly overlooked the tragedy of Thane's death. It wasn't because they didn't care. Because they did. All of them knew how much the drell meant to her. Garrus honestly didn't know why he hadn't at least voiced his sympathies, why he hadn't offered her his condolences. It was wrong of him. He should have been there for her. He should have been a better friend.

Rocking her gently he whispered, "I'm sorry, Shepard. I'm so sorry." For everything.

She cried for a little while longer before pulling herself together and pushing him away. Sliding off of the table she wiped her eyes dry and straightened her back. Offering Garrus a desultory smile, she said, "Thank you for listening, Gare-Bear."

"Any time, Shepard."

With an noncomittal nod she walked past him, probably heading for the elevator that would take her to her cabin. She needed some time alone, as did he. Leaving the Med Bay behind he walked towards the main battery. Shepard would get over this. At the end of the war she would find happiness, maybe visit an ocean and relax in front of the sea she had mentioned.


	8. Chapter Seven

Unfamiliar warmth seeped into her skin. The debris from an unforgiving war zone was replaced by an array of blues. Sky met sea with a kiss in the distant horizon. Between her toes the sand was warm, moistened by the lulling tidal waters. The vision of paradise before her exceeded everything she had dreamed.

Anya gazed down at her bare feet, a contented smile on her lips. _I made it_. Her grin grew as laughter bubbled from her core and spilled past her smile. She had finally made it. Overcome with such overpowering joy she spun until she was too dizzy to stand. A vision of blue surrounded her. Between the sky and the sea nothing else existed. Gravity pulled her onto her ass, the sand doing little to cushion her landing, while happy tears blurred her vision before sliding down her cheeks.

After everything she had been through, everything she had fought for, she had finally made it. Peace was hers, at herself onto her back, Anya allowed the warmth of the sun to caress her flesh. A sigh decompressed her chest. Relief and peace resonated within her, two emotions that had once been so fleeting.

"_Anya_."

Her eyes snapped open. Pulling herself up onto an elbow, Shepard stretched a hand forward to shield her eyes against the harsh light that slanted across the beach._ Wait, where'd the light come from_? Uncertainty sprouted in her chest.

"Thane?" No, not Thane; that voice was distinctly female.

The too bright light masked the silhouette in front of it. Even squinting, Anya couldn't identify who was was definitely not hanar, volus, or elcor. Her legs were long, her curves were distinguishable through the light, making her seem humanoid, but was she human? Asari? Drell?

"_Sweet Child_." Her voice was gentle, a sweet melodic sound. It was like listening to the cosmos; a vast, beautiful, unimaginable harmony of life, death and understanding. "_The sea has brought you to me too soon_."

Uncertainty spread through her veins as Anya stood to face the entity in front of her. It wasn't too soon. The timing was perfect. This was where she belonged.

"No. I'm where I need to be."

Even though she couldn't see the woman's face, Anya could feel her smiling. It was as if the world around her, wherever she was, was a projection of this woman, this entity, and her emotions.

"_You are still needed_."

"No!" Anya's tone was caught between desperate and terrified. Panic ran thick through her body until she couldn't breathe. She was tired of being needed. She was tired of the expectations and the life and death decisions. She was tired of living. Peace had been hers, the taste new and wonderful. "I need to stay here. I need to be with Thane. I need –"

"_This shore will be here when your task is complete_."

Shepard had already completed her task. What more was there? A scream threatened to claw past her grinding teeth. How cruel it was to be given a taste of perfection only to have it snatched away as soon as it was embraced.

"Don't do this." Falling to her knees, she begged, "Please don't send me back."

"_Hush, child_." The skies darkened to black. All around her, the sands and sea slipped away. Her serenity was collapsing, becoming no more. She couldn't even remember what it had looked like a moment before.

"No!" Shepard screamed into the darkness. "No!"

"Nurse, the sedatives," a voice struggled to be heard over her. "Hold her down."

"No!" The shore was replaced by a hospital room, blurry behind a film of confusion. Anya struggled against the nurse restraining her. Bucking and screaming, she tried to free herself from the tubes and wires keeping her on this side of the sea.

"Just let me die!" Tears streamed down her face as she violently thrashed from side to side. "I just want to die!"

Emerging from the side of her vision a familiar figure stepped into her line of sight. Anya immediately recognized her immaculate hair, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her flawless crème skin and too gorgeous features. Miranda was going to rebuild her again. She was going to force her to live when all she wanted was to die. Hatred ignited from the embers. The Cerberus agent was going to make her live.

"Shepard, please." She placed a soothing hand on Anya's shoulder, firm but affable. "You'll reopen your stitches."

"Don't touch me!" Anya hissed at the too beautiful witch beside her. With a feral snarl she redoubled her efforts to be free. They could not make her do this. They could not force her to live a life she didn't want.

"Why? Why can't you just let me die? You Cerberus bitch! Just let me die!"

Anya's struggles slowed as the sedatives took effect and the world began to recede into darkness. Shepard sank into unconsciousness, banished into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Time was irrelevant, a day could have passed just as easily as an hour. It was all the same to her. When Anya began to stir she didn't know how long it had been. Had she lost another two years? What did it matter anyway? She didn't want to wake from the darkness.

"Anya?" A familiar voice murmured her name, gently prodding her from her restless slumber. "Get the doctor, dear. I think she's waking up."

"Yes, Admiral," replied another voice she knew well.

A hand was placed on the side of her face, long fingers tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear. Anya's eyelids were too heavy to force open. She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth.

"Mom?" She coughed.

"Oh, honey." The endearing coo was answer enough. "I was so worried."

"What –" Shepard peeled her lids apart only to slam them shut again, sheltering her sensitive eyes from the light streaming through the open window. Blinking until her eyes adjusted, she asked, "Where am I?"

"Huerta Memorial Hospital," answered a mousy woman as she entered the room. Glancing quickly at the data pad in her hand, her blue green eyes landed on Anya. A friendly grin pulled at the corners of her lips. "I'm Doctor Michel, lest you forgot. You underwent extensive surgery, and have been resting for the past three days."

Doctor Michel. Anya remembered her. She was the one with a crush on Garrus. Blinking, Shepard tried to clear her vision. A fog surrounded her, dulling everything. She was wading through a mist with no end in sight. Slowly shaking her head she muttered, "What's wrong with me?"

Trying to bring a hand to her face and rub her eyes, she couldn't move her arms. Eyes falling to her wrists, Anya noticed that she was secured by cuffs to the sides of the bed. "What's going on?"

She figured the drowsiness wasn't unusual. But were the restraints really necessary? Did she really care? Anya couldn't bring herself to find concern for being cuffed like a criminal. She didn't even care if Dr. Michel answered her questions. All she knew was that she was alive, and that was the last thing she wanted to be.

The doctor stood at the foot of Anya's bed, watching her with a clinical eye as she intermittently focused on Shepard and the data pad in her hand. "Though your surgeries went well, you are not out of the woods yet. Any wrong moves on your part and you can undo all of the hard work that our surgeons so painstakingly put into piecing you back together. And then we'd lose you for good." Eyeing the cuffs around Anya's wrists, she explained, "When you were last awake you did a bit of damage to my medical team. You broke an medical technician's nose and scratched a few others to ribbons. You were more dead than alive and you had enough fight to throw down another Reaper."

Words, so many words. If she wanted to lie to herself Anya would have admitted to only paying partial attention. But honestly she hadn't been paying any. The noises that Dr. Michel had been making were getting lost in the fog smothering Shepard's brain. She couldn't complete a thought, formulate an opinion, or muster the will to feel. All she could recognize was that her mouth was dry, the light was too bright, and the familiar vanilla scent of her mother's perfume was making her nose itch.

"You are unstable, physically, emotionally, and mentally. The restraints are to protect you and the staff. They will remain until I can trust you to not reopen all of your wounds. Until then we will be keeping a very careful eye on you."

"Thank you, Doctor Michel," Admiral Hannah Shepard said to the young woman standing at the foot of her daughter's hospital bed. Hand reaching for Anya's she gave her fingers a tight squeeze before saying, "I'd like to have moment with my daughter now that she is awake."

"Of course, Admiral," the doctor acknowledged her dismissal with a nod. Meeting Shepard's gaze one last time she let a smile bend the corners of her mouth, a friendly farewell for now. "I will be right outside if you need anything else."

Hannah offered her a smile as thanks before directing all of her attention to Anya. Fussing over her in a way only a mother could, Hannah rearranged Shepard's hair. The slight upturn of her lips was poignant as she gazed at her daughter. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Thirsty." Uncomfortably so. And there was a dull ache, a muted pain that resounded throughout her entire body. But her mind was too groggy to focus on the discomfort, or to acknowledge it as pain. Whatever drugs she was swimming in, they were doing a damn good job.

Her mother's smile deepened for a second, "Here, sweetie." From the side table she retrieved a glass of water. Without thinking Anya made a move to reach for the cup, but stopped short when the cuffs tightened around her wrists reminded her of her restrained state. Not missing a beat, Hannah placed the straw in front of Shepard's lips and waited for her daughter to drink.

She was too dazed to be uncomfortable by her own helplessness. The drugs were making her happily oblivious to the fact that, under normal circumstances, she would have protested not only being drugged in the first place but being incapacitated as well.

Glass mostly empty and thirst quenched Anya released the straw from her mouth and settled her head comfortably back onto the pillow. Her eyes were feeling heavy again.

Consciousness was beginning to slip through her fingers, blackness beckoning her to dreamless sleep. Trying to fight the weight of her fatigue Anya mumbled, "Mom?"

"I'm right here, Honey."

"Did I . . . do it?" Finishing a sentence was more difficult than putting one together. Anya couldn't string a thought along from start to finish, much less voice it.

The emotion that took hold of Hannah Shepard vibrated the air of the room. Lowering her lips to Anya's hand, she gave her knuckles as kiss before answering. "Yes, you did. You saved us all."

"That's . . . good." Her task was complete then. She had done what she was meant to do. A smile began to surface on her lips, cracking the chapped skin. Letting her eyes fall shut she whispered, "Then I can . . . sleep."

"Sleep, sweetheart." Hannah combed her fingers through Anya's hair again, unable to keep from feeling her still living daughter. "You've earned yourself a good rest."

Shepard felt herself nod in agreement. Before turning herself over to slumber she needed just one more thing done. "Mom?"

"Yes, Anya?"

"Don't let them . . . wake me up."

Her mother didn't reply. A stifled sob was her only response. Unable to resist any longer Anya succumbed to the lull of sleep, trusting her mother to let her find eternity.


	9. Chapter Eight

A blaring pain stabbing her sides woke her from her sleep. The groan that escaped her only made it worse. Shepard's body was stiff, her bones aching and too heavy to move.

Blinking against the unpleasant light, Anya tried to orient herself. The fog was fading. Her mind was no longer moving at a sloth's pace. She was still groggy, sore and unfocused, but it was a different sensation than when she was first awake.

The quiet hiss of the door opening registered in the back of Anya's head. She had company.

"Good. You're awake." Dr. Michel announced her approach

Was that good? She couldn't bring herself to agree. Mind retracing her last wakeful moment she could recall the Doctor's visitation. Turning her gaze to Dr. Michel, Anya skipped the pleasantries. "Where's my mother?"

"On Earth," Dr. Michel informed her as she looked over Anya's vitals. Satisfied with the information she found, the doctor continued, "She's helping your father with the reconstruction effort. She promised to be back soon."

So it hadn't been a dream. Her mother was alive. And her dad was alive too. What about Michael and his family? Had they also survived the war?

When Anya spoke those weren't the questions that she asked, though, "Do you always cuff your war heroes?" Shepard lifted her arms as far as they could go, drawing attention to the padded cuffs securing her to the hospital bed. "Or did you have some naughty plans for me, Doctor?" Her jibe was without humor. She didn't find being cuffed funny. The pain in her body was placing Shepard in a surly mood.

She was supposed to be immersed in a sea of opiates and morphine, too drugged up to think or feel. And Shepard's new found sense of emotion was making her combative. She didn't know Dr. Michel enough to like her, and didn't care enough to try. She wasn't going to play polite, not for her, not for anyone.

The doctor eyed the taut manacles but did not remove them, fanning the flame of Anya's impatience. Meeting Shepard's frustrated gaze she replied, "I apologize for the restraints, but I assure you that they're necessary. At least for the time being. Even though you are healing at a remarkable rate we need to be sure that you don't undo all of the damage we've repaired."

A disapproving huff escaped Anya's nose. Her lip curled up into a snarl. "And why," was she growling? "would I do that?" She was definitely growling. Shepard was hurting. Like an injured animal, she could only retaliate with hostility.

Dr. Michel was unaffected by Anya's show, she answered, "You've survived a very traumatic experience, Commander. You're body is healing faster than normal, but Miranda assures me that it isn't healing at the rate it's supposed to. Your mind isn't ready to cope with what you've lived through, and that has stunted the healing process. You've recovered enough for us to wean you off of all the drugs. But until you've been examined and cleared by a psychiatrist the restraints are staying."

The women glared at one another, each waiting for the other to back down. After a minute, Shepard conceded, looking away from the doctor. It wasn't like she was in a good position to negotiate. This was Dr. Michel's turf. She called the shots.

With a sigh, Anya relaxed her arms, lowering them to her sides again. It was a gesture of temporary surrender. A lifetime of military upbringing had taught her to choose her battles wisely, and a standoff with Dr. Michel was a battle she couldn't win at the moment. It wasn't like the woman's orders were without merit. Anya was in a delicate state.

Since waking, there'd been only one thought in her head. Why won't they let me die? She'd been awake for maybe fifteen minutes and all she could think of was ways to end it all. How long would it take for her to bleed out if she used that needle on herself?

Anya's life had been fighting. Fighting through the Alliance ranks. Fighting to be recruited into the N7 program. Fighting to be the best N7. Fighting for survival during the Skyillian-Blitz. Fighting Saren. Fighting the Collectors. And finally fighting the Reapers. That was what she did. That was all she knew. Anya wasn't built for peace. She wasn't meant for the stillness of a galaxy without threat.

There had been only one man capable of giving her pause, a single being that made her long for serenity. And that man was dead. All Anya wanted was to join him in the afterlife. The beyond had rejected her. Life had seized her. And now she lay in a hospital bed facing life in a world where she didn't belong with a future she didn't want. Chatting up a shrink wouldn't change that. But if it meant that the shackles came off, then she would fake it. She had dated Kaidan long enough to become quite good at that.

"Alright, Doctor, you win" she finally replied while closely inspecting Dr. Michel's features for any signs of satisfaction. The doctor didn't appear to relish her victory over the Commander, or if she did, she did a damn good job not showing it.

Finding a comfortable position for her neck Anya wondered, "What's my prognosis?"

A smile whispered across the doctor's lips, grateful for Shepard's surrender. Sucking in a deep breath, the mousy woman began with her explanation, "Hopeful, considering that you should be dead."

Yeah, tell me about it. Shepard thought. At least the woman agreed with her on that.

Unaware of Anya's thoughts, Dr. Michel went on uninterrupted. "You suffered extensive burns and lacerations as well as multiple breaks and fractures. Namely, your right leg was crushed. While the damage was repaired it cannot be reversed. You will have to undergo daily sessions of physical therapy for the foreseeable future. As for right now, walking without aide, or at all, is simply not going to happen."

Being sucker punched right in the gut hadn't ever left her as breathless as she was now. Anya needed her mobility. She needed to be able to run down bad guys. That was what she did. That was who she was. Keeping her gaze steadily locked with the doctor's she dared to ask, "But I will walk again?"

"With enough physical therapy," Dr. Michel assured her with a nod. "If Miranda is correct in her estimates – which I wouldn't dare assume otherwise and expect to live – you should be back on your feet in a few weeks. Then, maybe a handful of months from now, you'll be back to shooting guns and chasing down bad guys."

"Good." It was good, wasn't it? If she had to live at least it wouldn't be as an invalid; silver lining and all that nonsense. Anya could have lived without knowing the answer to her next question. But it was something she needed to know. If she didn't ask then the doctor would tell her anyway. This way she would get the information at her request and not have it unceremoniously thrown onto her lap.

"What," Shepard cleared her throat of her hesitation. "What was the extent of the damage?"

Dr. Michel took a moment to consider her answer before speaking, like Anya would take the information badly. She was alive. And the doctor had already told her that her healing looked promising. It wasn't like imparting that information was going to offset everything. The mere knowledge of what she had survived wasn't going to kill her. And if it was, then Anya wanted to know all the more.

Securing her bangs behind an ear, Dr. Michel spoke at last. "You suffered a concussion, hairline fractures on three ribs, two more ribs broken, a punctured lung, your left shoulder was shattered and had to be completely reconstructed, along with your leg. Your arms sustained extensive burns. The amount of blood you lost," Chloe shook her head as if dismissing the thought. "A drop more and we would have lost you for good."

Was that all that had stood between her and eternity, one drop of blood? She could give fate that drop. She could drag her cuffs across her skin until it was raw, severed, and then it could take all the drops it needed. Death didn't have to be a prude, it could still bring her into the horizon.

Shepard fidgeted in her hospital bed, testing her shackles. They were too tight. They wouldn't cause enough friction to eventually rub her raw. Clenching her teeth, she exhaled her frustration.

Glaring at the ceiling Anya grumbled, "That bad, huh?".

"If Garrus hadn't found you when he did –" She cleared her throat, apparently the woman had a soft spot for battered soldiers. Fingers curling tightly around her data-pad, Dr. Michel's features took a somber tone. Anya's gut clenched at the sight of it. The last time she had seen a somber look in a doctor's eye . . . "Commander . . . There is one more thing."

Only one? Closing her eyes Anya waited for Dr. Michel to enlighten her.

"You were shot in the abdomen prior to the explosion that should have killed you." She was stalling. Why was she stalling? "I don't know the circumstances of that time. But for whatever reason you didn't use enough medi-gel to stop the bleeding or close the wound. Since it took so long for us to find you, our options regarding treating the injury were limited."

Why was she dragging this out? Ripping her eyes open Anya pinned Dr. Michel with her darkest glare. She didn't like being strung along, and she didn't have the patience to talk in circles.

"Spit it out, Doctor." Her growl was only a decibel above inaudible, but filled the room with enough tension she may as well have screamed.

"The rounds fired at you were explosive. The initial gunshot was followed by a marginal explosion that decimated the insides of your uterus. Had you received immediate medical attention, this injury would've been repairable.. That being said, when we did find you you had already practically bled to death. We could either remove your uterus or let you die."

'Or let you die' . . . let her die? It had been an option and no one had dared to even consider it? Bottom lip finding its way between her teeth Anya began to chew as she tried to hold herself together.

She had no uterus. If she had no uterus that meant she could never have a child. Starting a family without Thane had always been unthinkable, unimaginable, but now she was faced with an entire life. One day she might have been ready to go the whole nine yards and turkey baster her way into a pregnancy. She would have braved parenthood as a single mom, and she would finally have that family that she had always wanted. Without Thane it wouldn't have been complete, but it would have been hers.

Now what did she have? Without her uterus that dream was dead. Her chance to bring something beautiful and good into the galaxy was gone. She was a soldier without a war, and a woman without a purpose. They had brought her back from the dead for what? Why couldn't they have just let her die a hero?

Blinking back her tears, Anya shook away her emotion and turned to the only defense she had left. "I always knew that thing was going to bleed me dry." With a cough she hoped sounded like a laugh she corrected, "I just never thought it would be in the literal sense."

The doctor watched Anya with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry, Commander."

"Me too."

An awkward moment passed between them. Dr. Michel didn't know what to say to alleviate Anya's pain, and Shepard didn't know how to clearly explain to the doctor that letting her die would have been her preference.

Dr. Michel pressed on with a sigh. "On a scale from one to ten, where would you place your current level of pain?"

Did it matter? Did anything matter? Glaring out the open window Anya muttered, "Six."

"Commander," Dr. Michel scolded her outright lie.

Without turning her glare from the scenic view she answered honestly, "nine."

"Can you tell me where the pain is the worst?"

"My chest and shoulder." Taking a moment to consider she added, "I can't even feel my legs."

"That's normal. The Catalyst explosion took out a part of the Citadel, all of which seemed to have landed on you. Your armor protected you from most of the damage, but couldn't protect your spine from the trauma. We had to medically paralyze you, to keep you from jerking and causing more damage." Looking over the information on her data-pad, Chloe said, "You have visitors that are itching to see you; if you're up to it, I can send them in before we administer your medication again. What do you say?"

Was she up to it? Anya wanted to crawl into a dark hole. That was what she was up to. Did she really want people to come into her room and gape at her like some side show freak? The last thing she needed was to be seen as a feral animal.

Then again, it might do her some good to see some friendly faces. Maybe she could convince Dr. Michel to release her restraints.

"I'd like that," the words spilled past her lips without sentiment or conviction. Looking at Dr. Michel again she continued, "But I don't want them to see me like this." Anya lifted her arms a little. "Can you please take these silly things off of me?"

She was shaking her head before Shepard could finish her request. "No, Commander. The restraints are staying."

"Please, Dr. Michel, I was their commander. That's who they want to see, not some bat-shit crazy woman on suicide watch. It'll just be while they're visiting, then you can cuff me again. I'll be good."

"My answer remains unchanged, Commander." Turning towards the exit she shot over her shoulder as she departed, "I'll send them in for a few minutes, then it's nap time."

"Lola!" Vega strode into the hospital room with a grace Anya always found surprising. The grin that covered the lower half of his face made her heart sink a little. He admired the hero he thought her to be, but now the woman he had followed so valiantly was reduced to nothing.. Garrus, Kasumi, Miranda, and Jacob followed suit, crowding the room that had been too small to begin with.

The smile fell from James' face as his eyes landed on the leather cuffs that jailed her to the bed. "You into bondage, Lola? I didn't know that this was that kind of hospital." Turning towards the still open door he shouted, "Hey, Doctor, what's a man gotta do to get a sexy nurse up in here?"

"Be admitted would be my guess," answered Jacob.

Disgusted, Miranda crossed her arms and added, "I can make that happen."

Without acknowledging the two former Cerberus agents, James grabbed a chair and noisily dragged it to Anya's bedside. Grunting as he took a seat, the Lieutenant stated, "For real though, Commander, I can go twist some arms until someone treats you with some damn respect."

Knowing that laughing would hurt, Anya smiled at him. "Don't hurt yourself, Vega. I already tried. The only way these cuffs are coming off is if Kasumi breaks me out."

"That can be arranged," said the thief as she propped herself up on the foot of Anya's bed.

"Or," Anya looked towards the turian standing behind James. "A certain crush of our doctor friend could sweet talk her into un-cuffing me."

Garrus' mandibles clicked with amusement. "I'll give it a try, Shepard. But my brand of awkward charm has been effective on only one quarian thus far. I don't think she'd be too happy to learn that you've been exploiting it."

"At any rate," Miranda was quick to change the topic. "How are you feeling, Commander?"

Anya sighed as she leaned back into the pillow. "Like death."

"Don't candy coat it for your worried friends or anything," Kasumi snickered. "We can handle it."

"You can go ahead and feel like death all you like," Garrus remarked, his steel blue gaze regarding her carefully. "As long as you're alive the rest doesn't matter."

At that Anya scoffed. Misery didn't matter? That sure was good to know. "I'll keep that in mind."

Clearing his throat Jacob returned them all to the purpose of their visit.

"Congratulations on winning the war, Commander. You defeated the Reapers and we only had to rebuild most of you this time."

If only they hadn't bothered to rebuild her at all. Forcing a smile onto her lips Anya replied, "I didn't do it alone."

"No," Jacob agreed. "But without you the Reapers would have won and we'd all be dead."

"Each and every one of us owes you our lives, Commander." Miranda finished Jacob's thought. "And we just wanted to tell you how grateful we are."

James' gaze never left her face. His smile returned full force. "We got you something."

"But since hospital security won't let it through the door," Garrus shook his head as if the mere thought was revolting. "You'll have to get better and get out of here before you can find out what it is."

"I'll give you a hint," Kasumi patted Anya's leg. Leaning closer to Anya the thief whispered, "Its barrel is as long as Vega's arm and it makes bad guys go boom." Her fingers mimicked an explosion.

"You shouldn't have." She tried to say it jokingly, but Shepard meant it. They shouldn't have bought her a sniper rifle. Anya wasn't going to use it. Her legs were in tatters. When – if – she recovered, the Alliance wouldn't take her back, and if they did they wouldn't be dumb enough to let her do any field work.

"You'll love it," Garrus assured her. "I picked it out myself, and bought one for me, too." A laugh rumbled from his chest. "We'll have a rematch to see who the better sniper is."

Anya didn't care who the better sniper was or about a new rifle. Her heart wasn't in bantering with her old friend, it had died with Thane. Her body should have followed suit on the Catalyst.

When Anya didn't reply, James retorted for her. "A better gun won't change the results, Scars. It'll only make your defeat that much more accurate."

"Watch it, Jimmy," growled Garrus, "Or I'll show you just how accurate I can be."

Her visitors joined in laughter, but Anya couldn't bring herself to participate in their camaraderie. The others quieted when they noticed the absence of her laughter. The silence became uncomfortable but Anya felt no inclination to break it.

She was grateful to her friends for their concern, but she felt next to no desire for their company. Shepard wanted to be alone with her misery.

"I didn't get to tell you before," Jacob's deep voice pierced the silence. "Bryn had the baby. He's a boy, tough just like his old man."

The smile that tugged at the corners of her lips wasn't as forced as she would have expected. That baby had a hopeful future and that was what Anya had fought for.

"Congratulations, Jacob." Smile falling a bit she teased, "He's not named after me, I hope."

With a laugh Jacob shook his head, "Bryn and I came to a compromise. His name is Kole Shepard Taylor. They're outside waiting for me; I can go get them if you'd like to meet the little guy."

Again the smile vanished from her lips. "No," was her abrupt reply. To soften the blow, Anya explained, "Not while I'm like this."

Jacob nodded that he understood, though his disappointment was visible in his dark brown eyes. "Then maybe next time."

When Anya gestured her agreement Kasumi also informed her, "Kolyat is here too, Shep."

Her heart leaped at the sound of his name. The young drell was her last living connection to Thane. The prospect of living, though unbearable, seemed less insufferable at the thought of Koyat's presence. She had no right to request his company. He didn't owe her anything.

Biting her lip Anya glanced in Jacob's direction. It would be unseemly to declined to see his new born child then immediately after agree to see someone else without a moment's thought, but she and Kasumi had gotten close enough for the little sneak to understand the meaning of Anya's hesitation. With a slight nod she acknowledged Shepard's unspoken approval.

"We'll let you rest up, Shep." Kasumi slid off of the bed and onto her bouncing feet.

With a sigh, James got up from his seat. Rolling his shoulders he stated, "I'm shipping back down to Earth tomorrow. General Coates asked for my help with the reconstruction effort, and I can't sit around and mooch off of the Council's good graces for much longer."

"The Major's a General now?" Shepard raised an and Garrus both nodded in answer to her question.

She said, "Good for him. He deserves it." Addressing the topic of James' departure she well-wished, "Be safe down there."

"I will." James patted her good shoulder before taking his leave. Stopping at the open entrance he said, "I'll be seeing you soon, Lola. You better be up and running the next time I'm here."

Garrus' chest rumbled with his amusement. "What is that thing you humans say?" His mandibles flicked as he smirked. "You have to crawl before you can walk."

"You know Shep," Kasumi rebuked. "She ran out of the womb."

"Is that so, Commander?" Miranda put her hands on her hips in faux outrage. "Then someone has been falsifying your records."

Still averse to contribute to her team's teasing she simply smiled as reply. The people who were as good as her family left her to the plain white walls of her hospital room after a series of goodbye's and promises to visit again later.

"Commander?" A low raspy voice stirred her from her rapidly darkening thoughts. The silky yet gravely texture of the voice both warmed and broke her heart simultaneously. The young man, so different from his father, was the only person since waking who'd made her feel a thing.

Stepping into the room, he watched her closely with large black eyes . Discomfort stiffened his body, and uncertainty kept him a safe distance away from her.

"Dr. Michel said I only had a minute." Taking a hesitant step forward he asked, "I'm not disturbing you, am I? I can leave if you'd like to rest."

"No," she shook her head. "Please stay."

With her chin she gestured for him to take the seat James had forgotten at her bedside. Noticing his weary gaze eyeing her shackled arms she answered his unasked question, "They don't want to risk me reopening my wounds."

Nodding, he sat in the chair and leaned back until he was comfortable. As Kolyat peered out the open blinds Shepard could easily see the cerulean blue irises hidden in the blacks of his eyes. Where Thane had been beautiful shades of greens and yellows, Kolyat was adorned in striking combinations of greens and blues. Not for the first time, Anya wondered what Irikah must have looked like.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" Looking away from the window, his cerulean gaze returned to her. As he waited for her answer his lips pursed, lips he had unmistakably inherited from his father.

Watching his lips, and remembering the man who had shared a familiar set, Anya had to shake herself free of the sorrow. Forcing her chapped lips to smile, she supplied, "Miserable."

"Really? I mean being stuck in a hospital bed probably sucks." His curiosity pulled him forward until he was leaning his elbows on his knees. "But you destroyed the Reapers and saved the entire galaxy, and you're miserable?"

"That about sums it up."

Tearing her eyes from him, Anya forced her gaze elsewhere. How could she explain to this young drell that she wanted to die? There was no way. And he didn't deserve to be unloaded upon like that. She barely knew him. Their connection through his dead father was insufficient reason to burden him with her bullshit.

Clearing her throat she changed the subject. "So how have you been, Kolyat? I haven't spoken to you since . . ."

"Yeah," he said so that she wouldn't have to finish her sentence. Neither of them wanted to get into the topic of his father at that very moment. Running a hand over the serrated scales on the top of his head he answered, "After I did my time in community service Commander Bailey offered me a position at C-Sec."

"You're an officer?" She was impressed. The young man had allowed something good to come of the crap hand life had dealt him. His parents would have been proud.

Shaking his head he retorted, "Not yet, but soon."

The smile on her lips was the most genuine it had been since she'd awoken. "That's great, Kolyat! Congratulations!"

Watching her face, he sat silently for a moment. He was an intelligent young male. With a look alone, Anya could tell that his mind was reaching depths that few gave him credit for.

"I suppose I should thank you," started Kolyat. "You gave me the opportunity to become something more than the criminal I was becoming. Not only that, but you also gave me another chance with my father."

"Please don't thank me," Anya muttered.

Tearing her eyes from his she glared out the same window he'd been peering through earlier. Disquiet began to burrow in her gut, sadness filling the space it left behind. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth as she began to worry the flesh.

With a shake of her head she continued, "I did the right thing. You shouldn't thank me for that."

Anya was tired of the gratitude. She had only ever done what was right. And what had that gotten her? A hospital bed with an entire life that she didn't want to live. Her one track mind always returned to that point. She couldn't escape it, doomed to remember that she would one day recover and be forced make a life without Thane.

"It's too late," he tried to smirk and ease the sudden tension that now accompanied them. "I already did. And I'm not taking it back." Standing, Kolyat straightened out his clothes before picking up the chair and replacing it where it had once been against the wall. "My minute's up. I should go before Dr. Michel comes to get me."

"I'll see you again," she almost pleaded, barely able to hide her desperation. "Won't I?"

"If you'd like." Before leaving he observed, "You'll have an eternity with my father, Commander. But you only have a lifetime with the rest of us." And then he was gone, the doors hissing shut behind him.

A burning sting stabbed the backs of her eyes as tears began to rim her vision. She would easily give that lifetime if it meant even another minute with Thane. How much longer did she have to suffer?


	10. Chapter Nine

The fire flowed with fluidity that could rival its opposing element. The candlelight was to be respected, as was the altar where it and its kin set spirits at ease.

"Sere Krios," her vibrating voice stirred him from his meditations. When his gaze lifted to meet hers she said, "I have to go retrieve the linens from Neelah; would you please accompany me?"

Thane stood from where he had been kneeling and straightened his back as he replied, "Of course, Dacia. You mustn't even ask." With a fleeting look at the small altar he followed the woman out the door and into the musty outdoor air.

The shuttle he'd commandeered from the science facility had only enough fuel to get him to the nearest colony. To Thane's complete surprise, he had found himself on Zorya, a planet he had visited months earlier with Anya. They were there to help Zaeed settle a score with an old business partner, but like every mission with Anya, nothing ever went as planned.

_"__You just cost me twenty years of my life!" The old mercenary bellows, turning the gun on Shepard. If his finger hugs the trigger any tighter the weapon is going to unload into the Commander's chest. Thane watches Zaeed, his gun aimed at the human's eye as he waits for Anya to placate her squad-mate._

Her gun is level with Zaeed's torso. Her posture is more relaxed than her furious counterpart. There is resignation in Anya's glare. If the human does not restrain himself she will kill him. A brilliant orange light bursts in the distance, an explosion pushing them all down as it sends chunks of the structure into the sky.

_A heap of metal falls onto Zaeed, throwing him off of his feet, onto the ground, and pinning his leg under its weight. "Son of a bitch!"_

_"__Oh, that looks like it hurts," Anya pulls herself up onto her feet and casually wanders over to where Zaeed is laying. "Are you alright?" Her question is empty concern._

_"__The hell do you care? I'm fine." He glowers. "But come on. Get me out of this shithole."_

_The Commander stands over her fallen teammate. Lifting a foot she places her boot on top of the metal holding Massani to the ground, and presses her weight against it. At the sound of Zaeed groaning she says, "I'm not sure I need a man like you on my ship."_

_"__If you didn't need me then Cerberus wouldn't have paid my fee," he growls past his obvious pain. Thane feels no sympathy for the human. He is overridden by his vendetta. He is a danger to Anya and Thane will not allow anyone to endanger this Siha._

_Removing her weight from the metal, Shepard steps away from the mercenary. "You put your own goals ahead of the mission. That's not the way it works." She allows Zaeed a feeble response before settling the barrel of her gun between his eyes. Thane puts his firearm away. Anya is not going to kill the other human. She is just making a point._

_"__You're part of a team now, Zaeed. There is no way we can do this unless we're all working together."_

That mission was the one and only time that Thane had visited the planet. Zorya was a human colony in the Attican Traverse. It was governed and protected by the Blue Suns. The group ran an extortion racket on the planet. There hadn't been any jobs for him. And even if there had been, Zorya had a tropical climate. Its humidity and mildewed air would have caused his Kepreal's Syndrome to accelerate a doubled rate.

When he had stepped out of the shuttle it was to his astonishment that the atmosphere hadn't enticed a single cough from him. The humidity had no effect on him. He could breathe in the moist air and his only protest was toward the stink of the fungi that consumed the planet.

At last, he had found scant answers to a few of his questions. The war had been won. The Reapers had been destroyed. And the first human Specter had successfully united the galaxy. His Anya had done the impossible, as was her trade. The pride he felt in his Siha left him speechless.

Thane could remember, in perfect detail, the distress that had clouded her emerald eyes the day he should have died. She hadn't allowed her sorrow to dissuade her from her path. Anya had saved them all and she would be returned to his arms as penance.

The few credit chits he had scavenged from the ransacked science facility had been adequate for a few nights stay at an inn located on the outskirts of the capital. But the mass effect relays had been damaged in wake of the Reaper's destruction, and they wouldn't be repaired before he ran out of money.

The elderly turian woman running the inn had a gentle heart. When Thane explained to her that he hadn't the money to continue renting a room it had been her idea to employ him. That was how he met Dacia Artacus.

Days ago, Thane woke from a coma to find that the reality he lived in was nothing like the one he'd succumbed to. It did not surprise him that a planet run by mercenaries was unable to sustain a semblance of stability. His only surprise was that Thun, the capital of Zorya, was not reduced to rubble in the face of its scared citizens. He could assume it was the Blue Suns' iron grip keeping the population in line.

The day had just begun. Above them the star that gave life to the system commenced its assent. Thane felt as though he were wading through water as he followed the turian elder down the road and into the city, but Dacia enjoyed her early morning strolls down sparsely populated streets. When Thane offered to take her in his borrowed shuttle she fervently rejected the suggestion.

"You wouldn't deny an old woman what few pleasures she still has, would you?" She asked as argument, a mischievous glint to her amber colored eyes.

And to that Thane had but one answer. They would walk, and he would gladly watch over her as she enjoyed her stroll. They both knew that Thane would leave as soon as the mass relays were reopened, but for the time that they weren't, Thane would do whatever he could for Dacia and her family.

They traveled in silence for a while, Dacia humming a turian song as she steadily sauntered through the streets. When she stopped humming, she observed, "That altar has been there since I first opened the inn years ago." Her cataract clouded eyes grinned at him in a way her lipless expression couldn't. "You are the first person to use it."

A smile slightly lifted his expression as he thought of the altar she was referring to. It was hardly more than a low shelf, draped with a deep red colored cloth, and lined with rows of always lit candles. There were no religious markers, no statues or figures, nothing that distinguished it as an altar to begin with. What it did have was an aura, a radiating peace that made those caught in its warm light bend their knees and murmur a prayer to whichever forces ruled their beliefs.

Turning his gaze up at the colors warming the heavens, he replied, "It reminds me of the temples on Kahje."

With a nod she gestured that she understood. Returning her stare to her well walked path, Dacia imparted, "Niall does not understand the importance of meditation."

Niall was her grandson. He was a slow-trusting youngling who had joined the Blue Suns to assist and protect what remained of his family. "The young rarely do," observed Thane as he watched the capital gradually wake in pursuit of the sunrise. "He will realize its importance in time."

"Before I'm dead, I hope."

Dacia regularly jested, often to Niall's horror, on the subject of her passing. The elderly turian woman did not eagerly anticipate death, but she did not pretend as though it would not soon take her. Thane detected that she made light of the topic for her grandson's sake. The years at her disposal were few. Soon, Niall would be alone. Dacia wanted her grandson to be prepared for that reality.

In all likelihood, it would only be after her departure that her grandson would realize the values his grandmother had tried to teach him. Kolyat had not revealed to Thane that he was familiar with the ways of the priests until Thane was lying in his death bed. Niall would not comprehend the importance of mediation until it was the only thing that kept him close to his loved ones.

He couldn't say so to his generous employer, though, so instead he jibed, "I was under the impression that turian elders became flies when they passed, as to always pester their loved ones even after death."

"A notion that is not too far from the truth, Sere Krios," she played along. Satisfied by their short interaction, the elder returned to her humming as they continued down their path.

Taking in a deep breath, Thane relished the forgotten feeling of Kepral's free lungs. He didn't know if he was free of the wasting disease or not. Either way he needed to find a way off of Zorya. The climate was too damp for him to risk his condition returning or advancing. If he was going to be trapped on the planet much longer he would have to find a doctor to know exactly where his condition had left him.

When consulted, Dacia nodded deeply. With a dismissive wave of her talons she informed him, "The Blue Suns employ a very talented doctor. I will ask Niall to schedule an appointment."

It was a very considerate gesture and Thane was in no position to reject it. Knowing the state of his Kepral's Syndrome was of the utmost importance. He would find a way to repay Dacia for her generosity. "If it isn't too much trouble."

"None at all," she smirked at him with her golden flecked eyes. After a few more paces a building caught her attention. "Here we are," she mumbled as she led them into the small storefront.

A bell chimed, announcing their arrival. Dacia cut through the small vacant lobby to the unoccupied register. Lightly tapping another bell, they waited for someone to come to their aid. Thane took up post in front of the wide, street facing window. Holding his hands behind his back, he watched as life began to fill the streets.

"Dacia," a female voice joined them and Thane turned in time to see a batarian woman appear behind the counter. His surprise in seeing a batarian female was eclipsed by the same woman tilting her head to the left in greeting, a gesture proclaiming her respect for the senior turian in her shop. "I knew that you'd arrive early for your linens. I just hadn't anticipated it being at the crack of dawn."

The turian chuckled at the young batarian's jest. "My age makes me sleep before it is dark and wake before it is light. Do yourself a favor, Neelah, don't grow old."

"But I'm growing older and older by the second." With a pretty flutter of a laugh the young batarian turned her attention toward the drell at her window. Smile widening she gasped, "Dacia," her tone was playfully scolding, "You didn't tell me that you'd found yourself a handsome young suitor."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Waving Thane over, she began the introductions. "Neelah, this is Sere Thane Krios. I have recently employed him to assist me with the inn." Placing her eyes on Thane she continued, "Thane, this is Neelah, the batarian beauty that refuses to court my grandson."

When Thane bowed as greeting Neelah tilted her head to the left to return the gesture. "Neelah Isimahr," she offered. All four eyes pointing at Dacia she corrected, "As if Niall would ever have the slightest desire to court me. He'd sooner date a human." Before the conversation could escalate into a discussion, the batarian excused herself to go retrieve Dacia's linens.

"Mark my words, Thane, I will make her my granddaughter-in-law if it is the last thing I do."

He couldn't suppress his amusement and allowed a smirk to lift his lips. "Noted, Dacia."

When Neelah returned it was with a mountainous heap of whites, neatly folded, and still warm from being dried. Thane removed the mountain from the counter top, holding it patiently as he allowed Dacia to finish her transaction.

"Any news of Palavan?" asked Neelah as she scanned the elder's omni tool.

"Only the bits and pieces that leak through the ANN." Dacia shook her head, mandibles clasping tightly as she glanced out the window at the life outside.

Neelah also shook her head, frustration in her movements. Crossing her arms, she commented, "I don't understand how we can still get the news, but we can't get a single comm. signal to function."

"Niall tells me that the Blue Suns had hired someone to fix the comm.'s when they had first gone down."

Head tilting to the right Neelah scoffed, "Probably a human, no doubt."

"Whatever they are, they'd better find a way to fix our comm. signal before we have an uprising." With a sigh Dacia gave Thane a once over before wishing the young woman farewell. The bell chimed again as they left the shop. "Batarians and their prejudices, that girl is far too young to harbor any sort of hate towards any being."

Thane felt no inclination to voice an opinion. He had met very many batarians in his lifetime, had killed most of them. It was that very four eyed species that had murdered Irikah those many years ago, but a race could not be held responsible for the misdeeds of an individual. Thane wouldn't condemn Neelah to the same fate as Irikah's murderers just for the fact that she was batarian.

They walked in silence as they returned to the inn. Thun was in full bustle now that the star that dominated the sky had roused everyone from their homes. Sky cars and shuttles sped through the heavens and Blue Sun mercenaries patrolled the streets in case of Dacia's foreboding of riot occurred.

"Put those away," Dacia instructed as she hobbled her way towards the inn. "And then meet me in the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am," Thane responded and did as he was told.

In the few days that he had gotten to know the charitable turian that sheltered him, Thane learned that she was a curious woman with a sense of humor that reminded him a bit of Anya. She didn't tiptoe around a subject she deemed worth discussing. In her age she had discarded social graces for bluntness and practicality. A part of him was concerned over what this meeting in the kitchen meant for him.

"Sit," the woman instructed as he entered the kitchen. Her back was to him as she rummaged around for two mugs, the teapot howling in the background. Finding all that she needed, Dacia silenced the screeching and turned to join Thane at the table.

"Tea?" she offered as she set the mug down before him and started pouring the scalding hot water.

"Please," he answered, though it would have been far too late to say otherwise.

With a _humph_ the elder sat down across from him and began to prepare her own tea. "Now, Sere Krios, I hope that I'm not overstepping my boundaries, but I would like to get to know the man that has so recently come into my employment."

That was fair. The Artacus elder had been very benevolent to him. The least he could do to repay her was answer a few questions. Thane blew the steam off of the lip of his mug before taking a cautious sip. The welcomed warmth filled his mouth. It was a familiarity that he shut his eyes to savor.

Opening his eyes, Thane retorted, "If that is your wish, I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities."

There wasn't even a pause before her first question was thrown out before him. "Do you have a family, Thane?"

"A son," he answered truthfully, feeling no need to lie to the older turian. "He is about the same age as Niall."

"And his mother?"

He sipped his tea. "Dead."

She bowed her head, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It was many years ago." He returned her gesture in gratitude.

"Have you found a replacement?"

Thane's tea almost sprayed out from his nose. If he hadn't learned the Artacus elder's ways in his short employment he would have taken insult to her poorly worded question. With a cough he set down his mug and leaned back into his seat. He allowed a smirk to twist his lips as he regarded the turian so many years his senior.

"Dacia, your loveliness could rival that of any asari matriarch. Surely you can find a better man than I to meet your needs."

With a chuckle her mandibles flapped in mirth. "Keep up the charm, drell. This old bag of bones could teach you a thing or two in the art of love."

"Of that I have little doubt," was his rebuke. In answer to her query he said, "There is a woman."

"A human?" He nodded. "Do you love her?"

"With every beat of my heart."

"Oh, a romantic," she clasped her talons together in a very female display of pleasure. "I never would have guessed." Lifting her mug to her lipless mouth she asked, "Where is she?" before taking a drink.

The ANN kept daily reports on Anya's condition. Thane listened almost religiously, anticipating any mention of his Siha. If she fought only a while longer they would be together again. He now had the rest of his life to offer her and his son. The only obstacles standing between them, now, were the relays.

Smiling to himself Thane responded, "The Citadel."

"What brought you to Zorya?" Dacia tilted her head as she observed, "You don't seem the gun for hire type."

Thane's smile almost deepened. That was exactly the type he was.

"Fate," it was the only answer he could give her because it was the only answer he had.

"And what did you do before fate brought to my doorstep?"

Thane knew that if he told her the truth she would have been unfazed by it. The elderly woman had an unshakable mien about her. But it was a truth that could potentially endanger her or Niall. So he chose another truth. "I was trying to be a good father to my son."

"That is no easy task," she said as though in admiration of a valiant effort.

He didn't feel as though his efforts had been valiant. Ducking away from her admiration he admitted, "I have made more mistakes than can be accounted for."

"Parenthood has never been, and will never be, a duty performed to perfection. Your mistakes, and your ability to own them, are what make you a perfect father."

Raising his mug to the woman across from him he took another sip. "Beauty and wisdom," he allowed a smile to take his lips. "How am I to resist a temptress of such caliber?"

"Alright," she stood from the table with a laugh. Scooping up his empty mug, her mandibles clicked in a turian grin before she shuffled towards the sink. "I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for humoring an old crone."

Thane stood from his seat. "It was my pleasure," he said to her back before slinking away to begin his duties.

His recent employment had taught him how poorly versed he was in the ways of the mundane. He hadn't the slightest idea how to fold linens prior to working for the Artacus family, but Dacia was patient, and taught him what he needed to know. She may have lacked a certain social grace, but that didn't negate her charms.

The day pressed on as Thane worked. It was not snapping necks or hunting targets, but the work was fulfilling, and allowed him to be satisfied in the knowledge that he was marginally repaying the elder Artacus' kindness.

As night fell, Thane retreated to the small garden behind the inn. There he started with a quick meditation before finding the center of the greenery and commencing his training.

It felt good to stretch and pull his muscles again, to be reminded of the strength stored within his body. He had lost too much muscle mass while unconscious, but now that he was alive and eating properly he would be back to his fighting shape in no time.

"Where did you come from?" Niall's shuddering voice announced his arrival. He stepped out onto the grass, crossed his arms, and glared at Thane with those amber eyes he and Dacia shared.

Thane heard the young turian's approach as soon as he had exited the inn. Without stopping his workout he replied, "The drell home world is Rakhana, though I was born and raised on Kahje." He was well aware that Niall did not trust him as Dacia did, and didn't take the boy's hostility personally. The boy didn't share his grandmother's quick assessment of character.

"No," the impatient turian hissed. "Before my grandmother took you in."

Thane threw several well orchestrated punches into the air before doing a spin kick and landing gracefully on his feet. "The last memories I have are of the Citadel."

Niall shook his head incredulously. "You don't remember how you got here?"

"The drell have perfect memory recall," he stated before answering, "And I have no memories of how I arrived on this planet."

The young Artacus reminded Thane of Kolyat. The insecurities of a boy becoming a man were mirrored across both young males. Bitterness and anger were two more unfortunate similarities that he found between them.

"How convenient." Mandibles flicking with dissatisfaction, he announced, "I don't trust you, drell. You come out of nowhere, work for then befriend my grandmother, and you fight like you know nothing else; which I happen to know as fact. You're a shitty houseman."

Finally halting his exercises, Thane turned to face the turian adorned in heavy Blue Suns armor. "I understand and accept your distrust of me, Niall, but I can assure you that I don't mean you or your grandmother harm. I was in an unfortunate place and your grandmother took pity on me. For that I will always be grateful, as well as in your family's debt."

The boy sighed with displeasure but did not press the subject. Uncrossing his arms he jabbed a finger in Thane's direction as he growled, "I'll be keeping a close eye on you, Krios."

Thane bowed, "I would expect no less." Straightening his back, he started for the inn. As he passed Niall he said, "Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning."

Without turning to watch Thane's departure, Niall wondered, "Aren't you coming to supper?" He glanced over his shoulder to meet the assassin's questioning gaze. "Grandmother enjoys your company."

Bowing his head again Thane agreed to supper. "I should bathe first."

A smirk wrestled his mouth. The turian may not like him, but he respected his grandmother too much to disagree with her judgment. Their differences were many and far between, but Niall would not be the first turian that Thane had formed an unlikely friendship with.


	11. Chapter Ten

Thane woke from a restful sleep comforted by dreams filled with the memory of Anya's love. A hopeful mood possessed him, causing a smile to sneak onto his lips, loath to be dismissed. Candlelight drew him to the altar, welcoming his agreeable mood with an encouraging glow.

"Good morning, Thane." Dacia's gentle voice prodded his eyes to open and meet her cloudy golden gaze. From the doorway where she stood, she wondered, "Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

"I would." He stood from his kneeled position and followed the elder turian into the kitchen. Thane joined Dacia for her morning meal, enjoying her dry humored company before she surprised him with the revelation of his appointment with the Blue Sun physician.

As she brought the mug up to her mouth she stated, "Niall will take you," before drinking her tea. "I know that today was meant to be your personal day, but I need for you to stop by Neelah's and pick up my order of cloth napkins."

Considering all that she had done for him, Thane would retrieve the stars from the heavens as repayment if necessary. "It will be done," he assured her.

They finished their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Thane was in a pensive mood, anxious and eager to meet with the mercenary's general practitioner. The warmth of a good night's rest had not yet abandoned him. The day was to be a good one, he hoped. Hope was not an emotion he turned to often in his life, but he was alive, and he was allowed to hope.

Niall wandered into the kitchen, half asleep, a taloned hand dragging down his face as he shuffled towards the tea pot. Filling a mug with his grandmother's tea, the young Artacus drank the hot liquid. With a satisfied sigh he turned towards his grandmother and nuzzled her fringe with affection.

"Good morning, Grandmother."

"Morning, Niall." She patted the side of his face, welcoming his affability with a turian smile.

Amber eyes fell onto the drell. He acknowledged Thane with a terse nod. "Morning, Krios." When Thane bowed his head in reply the younger Artacus said, "The doctor made time to see you today. The earlier the better, just let me know when you're ready to leave so that I can take you."

"I'm ready now." Thane saw little point in lingering a moment longer. He and Dacia both were through with their meals, and she had an inn to run without them.

Niall waved for the door that would take them out into the musty Zorya air. "Good, let's not waste any more time."

He led them out of the inn and onto the street. Outside Niall had a sky-car parked at the back of the inn. It was a sleek model, a dark midnight blue that reminded Thane of the starless nights of Illium. It was the young turian's prized possession. The hours he spent detailing the vehicle bordered upon worship.

"Get in," Niall grumbled as the sky-car door flew open.

When they were settled inside the young turian had them up and going after a quick check of the controls. As the vehicle began its flight, zipping through the thick Zorian sky, he glanced in Thane's direction, discontent in his golden flecked eyes.

"Do you have any idea how many favors I had to call in to get you this appointment?"

Thane didn't know, but judging by the snide tone to the turian's rumbling voice, he would assume a great many. With little else that vocalized his gratitude he said, "And it is a debt I will never be able to repay. Thank you, Niall."

With a scoff he shook his head. "Don't thank me." Niall shot a glare at the drell beside him. "I did this for my grandmother, not for you."

"Be that as it may, you have my thanks." Thane allowed silence to intervene.

He had lived his entire assassin career under the shadow of distrust. Only during his time spent aboard the Normandy had he learned acceptance. Even then, Thane was more familiar with being doubted than being 's terseness did not bother him as much as the young Artacus hoped it would.

Turning toward the scenic vista beyond the sky-car, Thane watched as the green of the flora flowed past. On the surface below them a fight broke out. Thane caught sight of a human shoving a batarian in Blue Sun armor before they zoomed past the scene. The thunderous sound of a weapon unloading a warning shot rang through the air.

"Things are getting serious," muttered Niall as he maneuvered his precious vehicle up further away from the threat of discharging firearms.

The situation on Zorya was like a tightly stretched band ready to snap. Thane had seen it during his morning walks with Dacia. Desperation filled the eyes of the citizens of Thun. Frayed nerves lashed out with fury at the slightest provocation. The dismembered mass relay disconnecting them from the rest of the galaxy had them all nervous.

In reply to Niall's observation, Thane murmured, "So it would seem."

"Aria rallied together every mercenary group to help fight the Reapers, leaving Zorya to operate off of the handful of Blue Suns that stayed behind to defend the planet. We get our maintenance tech from the Exodus Cluster, our medical supplies come from Artemis Tau, and we trade goods across the board. Zorya may be a self sustaining planet, but there are a lot of resources that we get elsewhere. So, with the mass relays down to shit and our comms systems out of whack people are starting to turn on each other," explained Niall.

It must be a truly serious situation if Niall Artacus was confiding in Thane. His quiet and meditative manner often caused those around him to vent constrained thoughts and emotions. Niall was not immune to Thane's unintentional magnetism.

"To make matters worse," Niall continued. "Darner Vosque left his first lieutenant in charge. He's a new face that no one knows, and he expects the entire damned planet to just respect him. It's amazing that we've held ourselves together this long."

Silence fell over the vehicle again when Thane didn't respond. Zorya's difficulties were temporary, and would fix themselves soon after the relays were repaired. It would not be long before that happened and Thane could find his place at his Siha's side once more.

The Blue Sun headquarters had to be rebuilt following the destruction Zaeed had unleashed upon the refinery. The building they descended upon, now, had a pristine sheen that was marred by the scars of its past.

Parking the vehicle, Niall waited for Thane to step out before leading the way to the clinic. Stopping short of the entrance, the young turian caught Thane before he could disappear inside.

"You're going to Neelah's for Grandmother's napkins, right?"

Thane nodded, "That is correct."

He held out his hand and a small chip fell into Thane's grasp. Quickly assessing the item, his gaze flicked back to Niall, brow raised with speculation.

"Give that to Neelah for me, please?"

Closing his fingers around the tiny item he accepted the task with a nod. It was a test, and though Thane had nothing to prove to the young Artacus, he would see it completed.

Without a word of thanks Niall left Thane at the doctor's doorstep. Pressing beyond the green panel, Thane entered the medical office and was greeted by an asari the shade of lavender.

She spun around in her seat to see who had entered. Greeting him with a smile she said, "Ah, Mr. Krios." She was beautiful, as all asari were. The white markings decorating her face encircled her big, blue eyes. Her expression was kind and her manner was friendly.

"I've been expecting you. Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the examination table.

Thane did as was instructed of him and settled down on the table.

"I'm Dr. Leao. It is a pleasure to meet you." She shook his hand. "Now what am I doing for you today?"

He couldn't outright admit to her that he suspected that his Kepral's had abandoned him. That would raise questions he couldn't answer. Instead he chose a half truth. "I've been having some shortage of breath and soreness in my chest when I breathe."

"Hmm," she hummed before approaching him. With a wave of her hand she activated her omni-tool and began her analysis. Holding the orange glowing device out in front of her, she moved as if scanning over Thane.

Out loud she said, "Your heart rate is normal, and your blood pressure and body temperature look good." Taking a measured step back, Dr. Leao's gaze scrutinized Thane with a clinical eye. Removing a small flashlight from her coat pocket, she stepped closer to Thane, "Say Ah," with a quick study of the inside of his mouth she said, "Good, thank you."

Dr. Leao removed the stethoscope from around her neck and fitted the tips into her ears. Closing what remained of the distance between them, she placed the cool metal of the stethoscope on Thane's chest. With the repeated instructions of "Breathe in, breathe out," she listened to the ongoings of the inside of his ribcage.

Again she murmured, "Hmm." Unhooking the stethoscope from her ears she pulled up her omni-tool again. An image of his lungs came up in between them. Thane was speechless.

The last time he had seen the likeness of his lungs in had caused him to cringe. Blotches and angry colors had dominated the image, but now there was nothing to be found. It was like someone had replaced his old, faulty set and honored him with a new working pair.

Waving off her omni-tool, Dr. Leao went to her workstation to retrieve a few vials and a needle. Returning to the examination table that Thane was seated upon, she informed him, "I'm going to take some blood samples to run a few tests."

"Is there a problem?" Thane asked as he held out his arm for her gather her samples. He knew there was. The problem was that he was no longer suffering from Kepral's Syndrome and he hadn't the slightest idea how that was possible.

"No, not yet," was her answer as she stuck him with the needle and claimed the necessary amount of blood. "You're healthy and everything looks good, but there is some irritation in your lungs which is causing inflammation. That is what's causing the discomfort in your breathing." Dr. Leao removed the needle from his arm and placed a bandage over the bead of blood that was summoned to the surface of his skin.

Again, she returned to her work station and placed the vials of blood into a small machine before turning it on and jotting down some notes. Not looking up from her task she asked, "How long have you been on Zorya?"

Thane honestly didn't know. He had awoken in the science facility, but how long had he been stuck between life and death? Pulling an answer out of thin air, he replied, "A few months."

"What brought you here?"

His death had brought him here. Had it not been a medically invalid response, he would have answered as he had when Dacia asked him the same question; fate.

Alternatively he said, "I was visiting friends and I was not able to leave before . . ." He allowed the explanation to hang there, knowing that the doctor would supply herself with her own implications.

"So you don't reside on Zorya? When the mass relays open you'll be leaving?"

Thane nodded, "Yes, when they have opened I will be leaving."

"Alright," momentarily finished with her notes Dr. Leao returned her stare to the patient sitting atop her examination table. There was a serious look in her dark blue eyes. "I'm sure that I don't have to explain to you about Kepral's Syndrome, Mr. Krios." It wasn't an implication that she knew of his medical history. She had made the statement because Thane was drell, and all drell knew what Kepral's was. "Even though you are currently in good shape, the irritation in your lungs is a sign that the tropical Zorya climate is effecting your body. If left untreated this could easily escalate into the first stages of Kepral's."

Quickly typing something into her terminal she said, "I'm writing you a prescription for antibiotics and a nebulizer. You are to use the nebulizer every night until you are off of Zorya. You're Kepral's free now, but let's not take any chances."

He was Kepral's free. She had just said it. His body was cleansed and he had no recollection of the development. Shutting his eyes, Thane sent a prayer of thanks to Arashu, grateful for the new chance she had given him. I'm coming, Siha. Soon we will be together again.

Bowing in gratitude to the doctor, Thane said, "As you say. Thank you, Dr. Leao."

"It was a pleasure." Standing from her seat as Thane slid off of the examination table, she held out her hand again for a departing handshake. "If the mass relays aren't fixed, or you haven't found a way off of Zorya, in two months, I want to see you again for another check up."

"Yes, Ma'am," Thane gave her hand a firm shake, unable to express to her the depth of his gratitude. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Leao." Leaving the clinic Thane was ushered out of the Blue Sun's base and sent on his way back into the heart of Thun.

He located a rapid transit terminal and hailed a cab that would return him to the outskirts of the capital. Stepping out of the vehicle, he started for Neelah's shop.

The familiar chime greeted him as he entered the fresh smelling lobby. The young batarian woman was standing behind the counter sifting through papers. Lifting her eyes to the sound of the bell, a welcoming grin curled her lips at the sight of Thane approaching her counter.

"Sere Krios, good morning."

"Good Morning, Ms. Isimahr." He bowed his head and returned her smile.

Her grin grew, "Neelah is fine, Sere Krios."

"And so is Thane," he replied, his smile growing as well.

"Alright, Thane," tilting her head to the left she wondered, "Are you here to pick up Ms. Artacus' napkins?"

"That I am."

"Give me a moment and I'll go get them for you." She disappeared into a back room and a moment later reappeared carrying a heavy looking crate over to the counter. "And here they are," she grunted as she hoisted the container onto the countertop that divided them.

Brushing herself off she exhaled, "Don't worry about paying. Niall came in last night and took care of it."

With a nod, Thane slid the crate closer to the edge of his side of the countertop. Before he could heave the package up and return with it to the inn he said, "Speaking of Niall," and reached into his breast pocket to pass along Niall's chip.

"What's this?" Neelah inspected the tiny device that fell into her palm.

Thane answered, "I don't know. Niall requested that I pass it along to you."

A curious expression settled on her features. Shaking her omni-tool on and waving it over the chip, Niall's voice suddenly filled the lobby. "_Hey, Neelah. You said that you weren't familiar with Expel 10. I put together a bunch of songs that I thought you might like. Let me know what you think_."

"Oh," all four of her eyes were fluttering. A distracted smile hinted at the corners of her mouth. If Neelah was human she would have flushed a brilliant cherry color.

A smile tried for his lips as Thane recalled the many times that he had caused Anya's cheeks to burn with a blush. He hadn't suspected that there was actually an ember between Neelah and Niall, only the playful pestering of a grandmother overly eager to marry off her grandson.

The batarian at the register was flustered by her embarrassment, having accidentally shared with Thane a private message. Before she could stammer out an explanation or apology Thane hefted up the box and turned for the exit.

"As always, Neelah, it was a pleasure to see you. Have a wonderful day."

"To you as well, Thane," Her soft voice followed him out the door.

Free of the warm feelings Neelah was radiating, Thane allowed himself a smile as he made his return to the inn. Upon his arrival Dacia thanked him for the delivery with a warm meal and good-humored conversation.

Thane left the inn, again, contented and optimistic. His trip back into the capital had the misfortune of being when the city was the most active. After searching, losing himself, and asking for directions he found the pharmacy and picked up his prescriptions.

He and Dacia walked Thun's streets enough times for Thane to recall a few shortcuts back to the inn. Even though the market place was the central hub of buzzing activity, a quick walk between kiosks and around shoppers, and he would find himself reunited with the safe quiet of the inn.

It was a bazaar of jewelry, food, guns, and other goods. There was shouting and bartering and a general din of shoppers and browsers and those who only sought the company of the masses.

A commotion stirred somewhere in the high volume market. Curious, he turned his gaze over his shoulder. His gut and heart worked in unison to push him forward. Thane didn't want to get involved with whatever was going on, but if there was something - anything - that he could do to help, he owed it to the gods to lend assistance where it was needed.

A child's voice grew clearer as it drew closer. Thane could see as a child pushed through the crowd yelling, "Dad!" The little body shoved his way between legs and around spurs. In a flash, he pushed past a human woman and sprinted head long right into Thane. With a surprised oomph the little boy fell onto his backside.

Instantly, Thane recognized the array of freckles sprinkled across his nose, those impossibly large hazel eyes, and the tawny tone of his unkempt hair. Helping the boy back onto his feet, Thane couldn't suppress the shock from his voice, "Mika?"

The boy glared all the way up at the tall drell that stood in his way. After a moment of thorough scrutiny, recognition widened his already large eyes. "Hey! I remember you." His mismatched teeth were revealed as a grin took his expression. "You're Aunt Anya's boyfriend."

"What are you doing here, Mika? Where are your parents?" Thane looked over the shoulders of the crowd surrounding them. He didn't recognize anyone else.

As if just remembering his previous task, Mika's expression changed to one of discomfort and urgency. Panicked eyes pleading with Thane, the boy said, "I have to find my dad. Mom's in trouble. A batarian said she stole something. But I was with her the whole time. She didn't steal anything, honest!"

Thane's eyes narrowed. Jaw set, he held his hand out to the young boy before him. When Mika reluctantly took his hand he rumbled, "Where's your mother, Mika? Take me to her."

"This way," he tugged Thane forward and guided him back through the crowd of shoppers until they came to the mob of onlookers. They broke through a tight circle of spectators and into the quickly unfolding scene.

"That necklace was pure palladium, human," he spat out with disgust. The batarian merchant sneered at the woman standing before his stand.

Cassandra was average height for a human female, standing at 5'5. Long waves of dark brown hair fell to her thin waist. Her skin was a smooth olive tone with a healthy pink hue from standing too long under the Zorian sun. The last time Thane had seen her, her eyes had been darkened by bruises of restlessness. Now, her honey colored eyes were bright, sharp with her current irritation. She was a lovely looking human, though nowhere near the beauty of his Siha.

"I understand that, sir." Her annoyed voice reached Thane as he approached the kiosk. "But, as I told you before, I didn't take it."

The batarian crossed his arms. Lower eyes blinking, his gravelly voice demanded, "Empty your bag." His dull black eyes took on a demeaning glare.

Features twisting with outrage, she rebuked, "No. I didn't take anything. And you have no proof to the contrary. Now, Sir, I'm going to walk away and you're going to leave me alone."

Cassandra made a move to leave but stopped short when the merchant threatened, "Return the necklace or I will call the authorities."

Her jaw tightened. On Zorya the authorities were the Blue Suns, a faction that the merchant was, at least in some small part, a member of. The tattoo on the side of his neck let all know that he had low friends in high places.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Thane released Mika's hand, instructing him to "Stay here," as he entered the fray.

Michael's wife did a double take at the sight of the drell entering her dispute. "Thane?" Her expression was shocked, caught between anger toward the batarian and bewildered by the ghost of an assassin she met once before.

Turning his irate glare onto the spiteful batarian merchant, Thane assured him, "That will not be necessary. This woman did not steal from you. And you," he turned his head marginally to the right, "will cease harassing her."

Thane's tone and leer were severe enough to send the merchant a step back. His naturally non-confrontational temperament made others uncomfortable, as if they could sense that with a flick of his wrist Thane could disable a krogan.

The batarian blinked his lower eyes again before a sneer twisted his mouth and, with a violent wave of his hand, he barked, "Leave."

Cassandra did not need to be told twice. Tightly clutching her bag, she and Thane left the kiosk and grabbed Mika before disappearing into the thicket of onlookers. Free from the curious eyes of an entranced audience, Cassandra reached for Thane's arm and pulled him to a stop.

"Thane, what . . ." she blinked as if trying to collect her thoughts. "I thought you were dead. We all thought that Kai Leng killed you."

"He did," Thane ran a hand over the serrated scales at the top of his scalp and sighed. Shaking his head to demonstrate his lack of proper explanation he said, "I was just as surprised as you are."

Her features shifted with her curiosity, "Does Anya know?"

"No," he answered. "I have not been able to send out a message."

"The comm. system, yeah, I know." Looking down at the boy standing beside them, a small smile began to tug at the corners of her lips and brightened her face. "Come, let's go to the apartment and talk privately. Michael will want to see you."

"Thane's coming over?" Mika beamed and jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. "I can show you the ships that Aunt Anya sent me. They're so awesome!"

"Are you sure?" Thane asked Cassandra, not wanting to impose.

She nodded, "Please, let me make you lunch, or something." A laugh parted her smiling lips when she saw Thane's brow quirk at the lure of food. "It's the least I can do to thank you for getting me out of that uncomfortable situation." Waving for him to follow she added, "We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Indeed we do," he agreed.

She and Mika led him back into the city, far from the outskirts where the inn was located. The buildings grew taller the further in they went, growing in order to accommodate the larger population.

Cassandra's home was located in a carefully maintained, well lit building. Three flights of stairs later, they stepped into a beautiful home decorated with vibrant upholstery and accented with exotic flowers. The apartment was enormous, stretching out for hundreds of feet, with rooms to spare. Every inch was decorated by the touch of a loving woman, making the apartment a home.

Thane scanned the home, quickly locating the windows and exits, before he observed, "You have a lovely home, Cassandra."

Her smile was widened by pride. "Thank you, Thane. I'm just trying to liven up the place." Patting the top of her son's head she instructed, "Go wash up, Mika. Then you can show Thane your new collection."

"You're going to love it," the boy guaranteed before running off to do as he was told.

A smile formed on Thane's mouth that he did not bother to erase or disguise. Glancing at Cassandra, he said, "He has grown immensely since the last time I've seen him."

"He doesn't stop growing." Gesturing towards the living room she instructed him to make himself at home as she walked over to the kitchen to grab them some refreshments. When she returned, Cassandra handed him a glass of water before claiming the love seat across from him.

"Where are Michael and the baby?" asked Thane before taking a drink of the water and setting it down on the coffee table.

Her smile grew with endearment. "They were at the market with us. But Michael saw something he liked and couldn't be separated from the kiosk. They'll be back soon," she reassured him. Comfortably leaning back into her seat she started, "It's so good to see a familiar face on this god awful planet. But what exactly are you doing here?"

Still unable to adequately answer the question, he replied, "I could ask you the same."

"You could," she agreed. "But I'll let Michael explain that one to you."

In a friendly manner she steered the rest of their conversation to her experiences since the last time they had seen one another. Cassandra did not want to make him uncomfortable by prying, though Thane knew the questions would come. When Michael found his way home they would have to sort through the muddled explanations of Thane's survival.

Cassandra's laugh was lively. She smiled a lot during conversation, relaxing those around her and making them comfortable. She was an excellent hostess and made Thane feel as though he were a part of the family.

Smile widening she said, "Had I known how eventful today was going to be I would have had a bigger breakfast." Her laugh sparked amid them. "Between the batarian bully and running into you, my emotional fuel levels are running pretty low."

Thane smiled at her jest. Cassandra had a beautiful soul. It was easy to see why Michael had chosen her as his wife. "Does that happen to you often?"

"What?" she wondered, "Being harassed by batarians, or running into my sister-in-law's supposedly dead boyfriend?" Her eyes narrowed a bit as she tried to protect her husband's family. "Because the first one happens way more often than the second," there was only the slightest undertone of disapproval in Cassandra's inflection.

Before Thane could explain himself, the front door opened. The tall man that shared a still startlingly similar appearance to his sister entered the apartment with his daughter in tow. " – and then Daddy's going to put you down for a nap." Michael stopped abruptly at the sight of the unexpected guest in his living room.

Thane and Cassandra stood at the same time. Smiling at her husband and her daughter, she walked over to where Michael stood frozen at the front door. "Honey, you remember Thane," she said as she took little baby Ana from her husband's grasp. "We ran into each other at the market."

Hoisting the baby onto her hip, she stared up at her husband, confusion turning her features. "What's wrong, my love?"

"Thane," Michael's voice was low, whispered outrage. His features slowly began to transform with his anger. Hands tightening into fists, it became a visible struggle for Michael Shepard to control himself. "You're alive."

Thane opened his mouth to offer an explanation but Michael interrupted before the words could come out. "You were alive all this time?" Stomping over to where Thane was standing, Michael grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the wall, a feat he was only able to accomplish because Thane allowed it. "Do you have any idea how badly Anya suffered when you died?"

"Michael!" Cassandra shouted from behind her husband, urging him to release their guest. "Let go of him, Michael."

"Do you?" Michael shouted at Thane, jerking his grasp to shake the answer out of him. "Do you know what your death did to her?"

"I didn't mean –" he tried to speak above Michael's rage. Releasing himself from Michael's hold would have been a simple thing, but the human needed this, needed to voice and release his anger. He would not look at Thane without hostility until his umbrage was vented. He and Anya had that in common.

"Didn't mean to what? Didn't mean to break her heart? Didn't mean to destroy her with your death only to show up in _my_ home alive?" He snarled, his lip curling with fury. "You're _alive_, she thought you were dead and it almost killed her." Giving Thane another shake he demanded, "How could you do this to her?"

"I was dead." Thane did not care for the man-handling. Without hurting Anya's brother, he quickly maneuvered himself out of the man's grasp and was standing safely behind him. When Michael whipped around, ready to hunt Thane down and fight until first blood, Thane caught the man's flying fist and secured it between them. "Kai Leng killed me during the Cerberus coup. Or at least he should have. The last thing I remember is my 'death' at Huerta Memorial." Thane released Michael's wrist and took a step back.

Straightening his back he continued, "When I woke up it was in a science facility on this planet. Anyone who could have given me an explanation as to why I am alive is dead. Cerberus attacked the science base and now I have no idea how or why I live."

Giving Michael the most sincere look he could, he swore to him, "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt your sister. Anya is my heart. You must believe me."

After a few heated seconds of Michael's heavy breathing, he gave Thane a reluctant nod. "I do." Rubbing the back of his neck as if suddenly embarrassed, Michael apologized, "I sort of lost it there for a second."

"You think?" Cassandra scolded her husband.

"I'm sorry, Thane." He stared down at his feet, head hung with shame. "That was not very adult of me."

Thane allowed a smile to break the uncomfortable atmosphere within the apartment. Nodding in acceptance of Michael's apology he stated, "She is your sister. She protects you just as fiercely as you do her."

Looking from Michael to his wife he wondered, "Should I leave? I do not wish to overstay my welcome."

"No," they said together. With another sigh Michael said, "I acted out of line. Please stay and let me fix this."

"There is nothing to be fixed," Thane promised him.

"Of course there is," Cassandra chided, "Michael knows better than to fling highly trained assassins into walls. If you didn't have the patience of a saint I could be taking him to the hospital instead of insisting that you stay for dinner." She raised an eyebrow at Thane. "I am insisting that you stay, just so we're clear."

"Then I am unable to refuse." Thane's smile returned.

With a nod she replied, "Glad to hear it. Now," she poked baby Ana on the nose before walking towards the back of the apartment. "I have some children to wrangle down for a nap."

Giving her husband a pointed look, she instructed, "Play nice."

Michael watched his wife leave. Scratching the back of his head, a weary smirk turned the corners of his mouth as he regarded Thane. "Now that I think about it, she's right. You could have killed me in a heartbeat."

He chuckled at the youngest Shepard. Patting Michael's shoulder, he provided, "Anya would have been very upset with me if I did that."

"Well, thank God for my sister." He joined in Thane's amusement. With a broad gesture at the living room, Michael invited Thane to retake his seat. They both sat down and allowed the silence to join them for a moment, thoughtful of what had just occurred between them.

Turning his gaze toward Thane, Michael leaned forward as he asked, "You really don't know how you ended up on Zorya?"

Thane shook his head. Stitching his fingers together and placing them on his lap, he leaned back into his seat. With a breath he explained, "I woke up and I was here and I was alive. I've uncovered no answers since awakening, and am unsure if I ever will." After a moment of consideration he decided to tell Michael everything.

"Did you sister explain my condition to you?"

"Kepral's Syndrome?" Thane nodded. "Yeah, she told me that you didn't have much time, that you were dying and that there was nothing anyone could do about it."

"It's true," he nodded again. "Or, at least, I believed it was; but I went to a doctor today to have some tests run. My lungs are clean. I no longer suffer from Kepral's."

"What? That doesn't make any sense," Michael lifted a burgundy eyebrow. "I thought that it was already too late for treatment or a transplant. How is that possible?"

"That is a question I find myself asking quite often." Thane retrieved his glass of water from the coffee table and took a sip. Contemplating the clear liquid in his cup, he muttered, "I have questions without answers." He looked up from his glass to the man that sat quietly across from him. "I've tried to reach Anya, and my son, to let them know that I live. But I've been unable to get a message off planet."

"Yeah," Michael scratched the back of his head again. With an irate huff he said, "I've been trying to get those damn comm. signals up and running again, but that won't happen until the relays are fixed."

"You've been trying?" Thane arched a green scaly brow. "You are the one that the Blue Suns called to repair them."

With a deep nod he sighed again. "That would be me. A while back, during the war, they hired my company to fix whatever bugs were in the system. The company sent me. These snazzy digs are courtesy of the Blue Suns, to make my stay more comfortable while I repair the comms." Combing his fingers through his hair, Michael said, "But the problem isn't with the links anymore. Those I've fixed. We can communicate with any other planet or station in this system. The problem is connecting with the other buoys. There are literally thousands of comm. buoys in the galaxy, all neatly connected to one another so that we can communicate in real time.

"The comms in this system are unable to connect with those thousands across the galaxy. And there is nothing that I can do about it until the mass relays are open again. We can send messages and calls out. But they're going to travel at light-speed, which means that they won't reach their destination until, not only you, but your grandchildren's grandchildren are dead."

Michael's work was much more complex than Thane would ever comprehend. Still, he ventured just a bit further. "What about the ANN? How can we still get the galactic news?"

"That's a different matter altogether." Michael's hand gestures intensified as he tried to explain the science to Thane. "The radio frequency also travels through the buoys, shooting from relay to relay, from buoy to buoy, until it reaches our stations and are transmitted to the masses. Those frequencies aren't exactly reaching our malfunctioning buoys, per say. What's happening is that they are reaching the systems around ours and pulsating from those buoys into our system. The news you hear now is no longer news, it's . . . recent history, for lack of better phrasing."

Thane quirked an eyebrow. Michael was a severely intelligent young man. "Your work sounds extensive."

He coughed in agreement. Leaning his elbows on his knees, Michael began to rub his temples as if warding off a migraine. With another heavy exhale, he said, "The lieutenant running the Blue Suns right now is very unhappy with my progress."

Thane's attention focused with that information. His expression darkened as he inquired, "How so?" If someone was distressing Michael or his family then Thane would see the matter taken care of.

With a shrug, he stated, "He's threatening to kick us out of the apartment."

"He hasn't hurt you?" Thane leaned forward, holding Michael's gaze. "He hasn't tried to harm your family in anyway?"

"Not yet," he answered with a sigh. Eyes shadowing at the thought of that occurring, Michael shook his head clear. "So far he's kept my family out of it."

"Good," Thane relaxed a bit. Should that statement become untrue he wanted to know. Anya's family was his family. He would not allow any harm to fall upon them.

"Boys," Cassandra called as she reentered the living room. "If there's any blood on my furniture I am going to be very upset with the both of you." Joining them, she stood in front of the coffee table with her hands on her hips.

When her husband said, "We've been behaving," she replied, "You better have," before joining him on the loveseat.

Smiling happily at Thane she asked, "So, Thane, where have you been staying?"

"An inn just outside of the city," he answered. Already knowing what her next set of questions would be, he politely answered them before she could ask. "I managed to scavenge up some credits to rent a room for a few nights. When I didn't have any more credits the owner offered to employ me so that I could continue to live there."

"Thane," she gasped, her delicate hand covering her mouth in horror. Grabbing her husband by the hand she stared into his pine green irises, a silent communication passing between husband and wife. When she returned her attention to Thane she said, "We've found each other now, you don't have to keep living with strangers."

Michael voluntarily nodded his agreement. "Sandra's right." Wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders, he said, "Stay here with us."

Thane couldn't possibly intrude on their private space. He had a room at the inn. It was enough. He didn't need to encroach on Anya's family. Gently wording his refusal, he stated, "I shouldn't impose. I have a bed and I have a job. There's no need for me to burden either of you with another body in this apartment."

"Thane," Michael gave him a serious look. "This place is enormous. If you want to keep your job, no one is stopping you. But Anya loves you, like it or not, you're family. And family sticks together. There's an extra bedroom with an attached bathroom. It's yours if you want it."

It appeared as though he had little choice. Thane hadn't known that 'stay for dinner' was Shepard talk for 'move into the spare bedroom'. They were right about one thing, family sticks together. There was one easy way that Thane could be sure that they were safe from Blue Suns thugs.

Smiling at their hospitality and kindness he nodded that he would take up residence with them. "I will inform Ms. Artacus tonight."

"Great," Cassandra clapped happily. Smiling brightly at her new roommate, she admitted, "It's going to be great to have another adult to talk to."

"Mika's a solid seven years old, Sandra," Michael teased his wife. "He's practically a man."

Seven, that was near the age Kolyat had been when Irikah departed from her body. Mika was not a man yet, but he would be sooner than Michael and Cassandra would realize.

Thane couldn't race across the galaxy to find his son or Anya. The best he could do now was to enjoy her family for her. With a smile he sat back and watched as the playful couple fought a faux argument of their son's manly-ness. Michael was undoubtedly Anya's brother, and his mate was his perfect match. Witnessing their banter made his heart ache for the woman so many light-years away.


End file.
